


Reunion

by Eowyn_whitelady1



Series: Reunion [1]
Category: Jurassic Park - All Media Types
Genre: Alan Grant Romance, Alan Grant/OC, Cheryl Logan/Billy Brennan, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Peril, Romance, Spiritual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2019-09-02 03:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16778968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eowyn_whitelady1/pseuds/Eowyn_whitelady1
Summary: Alan is wrestling with feelings for his best friend after years of being a single man, while intrigue lurks behind the scenes; complicating everything.





	1. Return to the Big sky State

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all find these new elements of spirituality to be a welcome addition to the "Jurassic Park" world. Who doesn't ask questions of "why?".

Reunion

Chapter 1:Return to the Big Sky State 

Sam’s legs felt like they had springs in them as she strode across the Missoula airport carpet pulling her roller bag behind her. She’d been away far to long from this place, too far from the rugged mountains and valleys, too far away from the fresh air and the smell of pine. Montana reminded her of her native land and it had become a second home to her. She’d been in Los Angeles across the summer months to record her upcoming release and to glimpse the blooming color of green fading into yellows and oranges on the deciduous trees made her giddy inside. Usually, she would lament the fact that she had to go to baggage claim to pick up her luggage, but he’d promised he’d be there to help her. Alan promised to be here to pick her up today and her stomach fluttered nervously at the thought. She nearly bumped into a nearby traveler. 

“Oh, sorry!” She exclaimed. The traveler, a man in his twenties with dreadlocks, who looked to be an artist from her hometown shrugged her off.

“No worries. The flight from LA was long.” He interjected. Sam blinked and chuckled nervously in response. It truly wasn’t as long a flight as the man said. A flight to her homeland from LA would have been exhausting.

“We going to baggage claim 4?” she asked. She already knew where they were to go, but she felt small talk would take the butterflies out of her stomach. The man nodded, and they proceeded to walk down the hallways along with the others. Sam remembered the last time she’d reunited for real with Alan.

***Flashback to September 6th, 2002. ***

“Welcome to my humble abode!” Alan called out as Samantha exited her SUV and headed up his drive, toting a messenger bag and a basket.

Sam, a student from his latest dig in Fort Peck Lake was a wrecking ball in his life. She’d crashed in with theories and questions about Intelligent design, throwing the dig students into a tizzy and his controlled world upside down. Instead of chastising the young woman, like Billy did, he had an odd curiosity about her ideas. At first, he’d wanted to prove her mistaken and did all he could to gently and not so gently coax her along to align with the Darwinian view of life. It was her compassionate heart during the lowest point his life that endeared her to him, and her intuition and strong work ethic that earned his respect. If it wasn’t for her he might have sunken into a despair he had no way out of. He was able to explore new areas of life he’d neglected before, and a whole new world of possibilities had opened to him. If she’d left the dig that first day, intimidated by Billy’s criticism, Alan was sure he would no longer be living.

“Humble abode?! This place is gorgeous Alan.”

She was dressed in a red flannel shirt, simple navy colored straight leg jeans, and the sand colored boots she wore at the dig site. The climate was still warm from the summer so there wasn’t a need for too many layers.

He smiled, as she took in her surroundings. Alan loved the look of delight on her face.

His home had been a gift from his late wife Maria’s family. It was a three-bedroom home the last on a lone drive in Paradise Valley, Montana. Woods were at the back of the property and plains laid in front of it with mountains surrounding it. 

“I’m glad you like it,” he said.

She raised a brow at his statement but lowered it when she didn’t get a response. 

“Well you can’t beat the views out here. One of the things I love about this place, Alan.”

“You don’t have a bad view where you live either.”

She smiled a wide smile and turned her attention to him, extending her arms and embracing him in a friendly hug, being careful to not disturb the basket she carried.

“Come on in,” He said, opening the door for her. “What’s that you have with you, research, or Bibles?”

“Well, in my messenger bag, both, but the basket, now this basket…” she paused for effect. “…contains nourishment and caffeine.”

“Ah, Samantha, you didn’t have to. I wouldn’t have minded cooking something.”

“Toad in a hole?” she teased.

Alan laughed.

“You remember.”

“How could I forget your first confusing camp breakfast?”

The dish, a large pancake of sorts with sausages throughout was an American campsite favorite, one he made the first morning of the dig over in Fort Peck Lake where she’d met him.

“I didn’t want to waste what we had.”

She rolled her brown eyes over-dramatically.

“Cheap, cheap,” She said, her voice pitched to sound like a bird. The statement reminded him of Ellie’s at the dig site in Snake Water, when they debated the validity of having children. The only difference was Sam made herself sound like a songbird for comedic effect. She giggled at her own joke. Alan smiled. 

He opened his front door and let her inside and closed it behind her.

“You’re not the first person to say that, so I’ve decided to change that. I may be an old dog but I can learn new tricks.”

“That’s nonsense Alan, you’re no dog.”

“But I am old?”

“41 is not old, it’s distinguished,” She insisted. “And so is this place, it’s beautiful, Alan.”

“Thanks, it’s been a long time since this place has been seen by a woman. I hope it’s not too masculine.”

Sam was amused by his concern and saddened by his admission that it hadn’t graced the eyes of a woman in a long time. It surely deserved to be seen and lived in. This was a home, not just a house. 

“It’s not my typical style but it’s very you Alan.”

“What’s your style?”

“Modern, clean lines, graphical. This is organic, masculine, warm…” she mused. She then shook her head as if coming out of a dream. “Where would you like my things?”

“Oh, let me help you.” He said, striding to her and helping take her jacket off and placing it on the nearby rack. He then took her messenger bag and basket. He placed the basket in the nearby kitchen and the messenger bag by the door.

Sam looked around at the walls and noticed it was indeed a log cabin.

“It’s honestly a log cabin,” she said. Awe and wonder painted her tone. Alan smiled though she didn’t see it.

“Oh, I think it’s time for the tour.” He said extending a bent elbow to her to lead her around. She blushed and let out a little laugh. Her eyes then widened as a look of realization crossed her features.

“Too formal?” he asked.

She grinned and swayed a bit in front of him, with her hand stroking her own chin.

“No, but a bit, old.”

“Sorry,” he said, lowering his arm to his side.

“Oh no. Don’t be, I like older things, remember?” She quipped. She smiled warmly.

He bent his elbow again and she linked her arm with his.

He led her on the first floor to start, leading her through the joint living space and kitchen, separate bedroom and office then onto the upstairs level where his bedroom and full bath were located. It had been built in the 1980’s as a gift to him and his late wife, Maria by Amish builders. The colors in his home were warm brown wood tones, with splashes of red in the area rugs and blankets that were draped on beds and on couches. The place felt comfortable and cozy in the living area, while his bedroom looked like it was merely a place he slept in. Her eyes longed to see the fingerprints of family and friends on the house. They may have been present in the things in the house, but which ones she didn’t know. There were no pictures in frames to be seen. The atmosphere of the house in general was calm and comforting, like an old church.

The phone rang downstairs and Alan excused himself to go pick it up. Sam took time to look more closely at his bedroom, again. This time looking for anything that looked like a memory, a picture, something that said another person had left their mark behind. It took only a few strides to get from one side of the room to the other. The high ceilings echoed Alan’s voice as he spoke to someone downstairs. He seemed to be giving instructions of some kind to someone. Then she heard him yell her name.

“Yes?” she answered. She headed out of his room and down the stairs to meet him.

“I’m going to a friend’s house down the road a bit. A young filly got away from the barn and the only one there is their kid, Anthony. He’s a bit too young to get her in himself,” he explained. “I’m really sorry Sam but I don’t know how long this is going to take.”

“Where are his parents?”

“Both at work.” 

“He’s there alone?”

“Babysitter wasn’t available. He’s old enough to be alone for a while. Just didn’t expect the horse to get away.”

“Can he call a neighbor?”

“I _am_ the neighbor.”

“Right, I’ll go with you.” Sam said.

Alan’s eyes widened.

“You ride?” Alan asked.

“Yeah, a bit.” She replied.

“A bit meaning beginner or intermediate?”

“Intermediate, I’d say. I have a friend who teaches me once a week.”

“Alright, well let’s go. Anthony should be able to let us into the stable. You can back me up, or stay with Anthony, your choice.”

Sam got up and took the basket she’d brought with her from the kitchen.

“I’ll check with Anthony and go with you if he’s alright with it.”

Alan agreed and they headed out.

The house was a mile down the road. Anthony, a blond headed boy of eight stood at the fence and opened it when Alan’s pickup arrived.

“Hey Tony!” Alan yelled.

“Hey Mr. Grant! Thanks for coming! My mom’s going to kill me if I don’t get Sienna back!”

“Can you open the stable for me?”

The boy answered by running to the stable and opening it.

Sam and Alan exited the car as Alan gave Sam instructions on what horse to lead out and where the tack was in the stable.

The horses nickered as they entered the stable. It smelled of alfalfa hay, earth and a faint sweet smell that lingered in stables. The structure of the stable was well maintained and the stalls had plaques that read each horses name. The missing horse Sam observed was named Sienna. The two left behind were Cherokee and Charger.

“Hey Cherokee.” Alan said to the bright-eyed chestnut paint gelding. “You and I will be going for a ride.” The horse stuck his head out and nuzzled Alan’s arm.

Sam smiled as he continued to calmly but hastily lead the gelding out. His voice was soft but firm leading the horse to cross ties at the end of the barn. Sam was to get Charger, the bay quarter horse from his stall and get him tacked up. He quickly ran a brush over the horse’s back and belly to ready it for the saddle, before returning for the saddle and bridle. Sam wasn’t used to working as quickly as Alan was now. He passed Sam and picked up a heavy western saddle like it was a bag of flour.

“Be calm but firm, these horses are good on the ground and to ride, but you’ll confuse them if you’re not firm and consistent.” Alan said. He used the tone he had used at the dig site to instruct the students. Sam took note and did as he said, working as calmly and quickly as she could to get the gelding out and to be tacked up. She worked carefully around the horse’s hindquarters and was skilled at running a comb over the horse’s coat. Alan, then satisfied she knew enough to be left alone turned to the boy.

“Tony, where did you see Sienna last?” Alan asked. Tony, was standing next to Sam.

“Over at the south pasture. I tried to catch her but I think I spooked her because she tried to kick me. She’s not quite broke with me yet.”

“Ahh, alright. Does she have a halter on?”

“No. She got away from me when I took it off her to put her in her stall.” The boy answered. His tone was nervous.

“That’s alright Tony. Thanks for the help.”

Before she knew it, Alan was up and ready to go. He turned and looked at her, obviously watching. She was struggling a bit with the bridle but Tony reached up and helped her with it.

“Charger is good but he’ll hesitate if he knows you’re nervous.” Tony instructed.

“I am calm.”

“Didn’t say anything about that.”

Sam completed her taking up she went to the left side and mounted. Her form, still strong from the hard work at the dig enabled her body to easily mount. Charger had indeed been good on the ground, staying still while she saddled him without cross ties to keep him still. Merely tying his halter lead to a support beam in the barn and a few instructions from her did the trick.

“Let’s go.” Alan said. They rode forward at a trotting pace towards the south pasture looking for the horse.

“What color is she?” Sam inquired.

“Chestnut, three socks and a stripe.” Alan said. Sam squinted her eyes against the afternoon sun. After a few moments of scanning the horizon she gasped.

“I think I see her over there.” Sam said.

“Yeah, I think that’s her. I’ll put pressure on her from the right, you put in on her from the left, I’ll signal you. You alright with that?”

She smiled, nodded her head and followed his lead as they broke unto a canter to close the space. Sam slowed her pace when she saw Alan did. They crept forward slowly and the filly lifted her head and looked their way but her eyes didn’t show alarm. She went back to grazing.

“Who is high horse here Alan?” Sam asked. Alan was impressed that she knew the term for the dominant horse in a group and the hierarchy within the equine species pecking order.

“Cherokee, I believe.” He said, patting the animal on the neck. “Charger is next in line. She’ll likely still listen to him too.”

“You should probably approach first then. If he’s the high horse she’ll respect him more. May stay still for us.”

They rode forward. Their pace was a quick walk, Alan watched the filly’s movement’s and Sam watched Alan’s miming him as they went. They weaved and bobbed as the filly changed movements. It was like a dance Sam’s gaze had to be locked on her partners movement as he led her. They came within reach of the filly and Alan dismounted the painted steed. Sam knew she was to block the filly’s escape if she tried to bolt. He approached confidently, speaking softly to the filly, whose ears were perked, and was now watching him intently. He got within a few feet of the filly and Sam’s gut tensed. The horse was about to bolt, she could feel it. Alan signaled with his hands for Sam to be ready, with a subtle tap to his leg.

Sam gave the signal to her mount to block her way in case, like she’d seen her friend do with her cutting horse. The horse changed position and intent underneath her, waiting for the signal from her to bob one way or another.

Alan approached with the halter and lead. The filly lowered her head and let Alan approach with the lead. He touched the neck of the animal with one hand and held the halter in the other, hoping he could slip the rope around its neck to capture her and lead her back.

-


	2. The wrangle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still the flashback to when Sam and Alan's friendship really took off.

Chapter two: The wrangle

“Hey, pretty girl. We’re going to lead you back home if that’s alright.” Alan said softly. He continued to talk to the animal and managed to wrap the lead rope around her neck. “Come on.” He said firmly to the animal. The filly startled at a sudden breeze and bolted. Sam gave the signal to her horse and Charger weaved to block the filly. The filly tried to dodge, so Sam reached her arm out to grab the lead rope and took a tumble off her steed and was all but hugging the filly from the front around her neck.

Alan saw and his mind worked quickly to work out a solution.

“Freeze Sam!” Alan yelled. “Help her Lord,” he prayed. If she followed his instruction she would far well. A metallic taste of fear rose in his mouth at the thought of what could happen if she didn’t. All the filly had to do was place a well-placed kick to a vital organ or head to severely injure her or worse.

The filly seemed slightly surprised by her falling and backed up to get out of her way. Sam still held on and used the movement of the filly to get her feet under her.

“Whoa! Whoa.” She said, pushing the filly backwards, applying pressure to show the filly she was the one to listen to. She had no idea why she wasn’t being reared up on by the young horse but perhaps she was surprised by her falling on her. The halter hung from the lead rope, too close to the filly’s hooves to be safe. The only way she was likely to get the horse to really obey was to get the halter on her or to lead her with the rope. She had to get it off the ground for both their sakes. She pulled the halter up with one hand, and applied pressure with the rope with the other. Alan was cautiously walking back to his mount in case the filly bolted again.

“Sam.” Alan said lowly. “Lead her as close to Charger as you can and try and get that halter on her.”

Sam shot him a dark look. He sighed and said a prayer to God that she’d figure it out.

The halter finally in her hands and the filly curious but relaxed, she positioned the halter under the nose and then slowly slipped it over the head and fastened it in place. She breathed a sigh of relief. She could feel Alan’s gaze on her and hear his sigh.

“Alright, let’s head back.” Alan said. “You alright, Samantha?”

She smiled a small smile and nodded. He had a feeling she wasn’t entirely alright. She winced when she walked towards Charger.

“Samantha…” he said. “What happened?”

His friend winced.

“On second thought, I think I hurt myself.”

“Should I lead the filly?”

“No, I need to walk.” She said, leading the filly. “Can you lead Charger?”

“Hamstring?” he asked, after seeing her rub the back of her leg directly under her butt.

She nodded and almost doubled over. Alan was at her side as quickly as he could dismount and lead both horses to her. He searched her face and checked over the rest of her for any scratches or injuries.

“Samantha, easy. It will pass, deep breaths, breathe.” He instructed. There were tears forming in her eyes and her complexion was taking on a green pallor. “Are you feeling nauseous?”

She nodded.

“It’s the pain, try to keep breathing. You’re going to be ok. You did so well, Sam,” Alan said, suppressing the urge to stroke her hair to comfort her.

“Thanks. Let’s walk to the stable.” She ground out. Alan put a hand on her shoulder and muttered a few words of a prayer under his breath. He tried to get her to stretch it but she was anxious to get moving.

They proceeded slowly, the filly walked behind Sam, who as if by some sort of magic stayed close. It was as if the three beasts knew Sam was hurt as they were compliant and gentle. Alan checked on Sam any time she changed her pace, his eyes on her and he hoped she felt his concern. She was edgy, giving him a pointed look when he asked one time too many how she was. He could tell it was the pain playing with her mood.

When they reached the stable, Anthony was there to meet them. Alan took the filly and put her in her stall and together they groomed and put the horses away. Sam was banished by Alan to a bench until she felt the pain subside.

-

Sam got up from her sitting position and stretched, glancing at her watch.

“You hungry?” she asked to the boys.   
“Yeah!” Anthony yelled.

“I could eat.” Alan said. He knew Sam wasn’t intending on sharing a meal meant for two with three.

“Picnic?” Alan suggested.

“I’d say in the house. The wind’s picking up.” Sam interjected. Alan’s face fell but he nodded.

“I put the basket you had inside in our fridge, you left the door unlocked to the truck.” Anthony said.

“Good job Tony, could you get it for us?”

“We should all go in to wash up a bit.” Sam said, gesturing to the dirt and horsehair now on their clothes and skin.

“I agree.” Alan said, with an odd smile on his face. He pointed to the concrete floor. “Hey, could you pick that up off the floor?”

Sam turned to where he had pointed.  
“What on the floor?” she asked when she saw nothing but a few remnants of hay. She went to turn back and was greeted with water shot at her. She must have seen it and dodged the stream of water. Alan was holding the hose they’d used to fill up the horse’s water buckets, with his hand on the trigger.

“Oh, sorry, missed your boots.” He said with an impish grin, and his blue eyes gleaming.

“Alan!” Sam exclaimed.

He chuckled and took aim more decisively this time. Sam tensed and braced but spoke her peace.

“Alan, don’t you dare!” she demanded.

He stayed resolute, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. She raised her hands in astonishment.

“Put, it, down! I’m hungry and I really would like to not remember this as the time you soaked me at a stranger’s house.”

His face dropped in acceptance and he placed the hose back on the reel.

“Alright, sorry,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m sure you are,” She teased. “I’m heading to the house.” She strode off quicker than Alan thought she could with a formerly pulled hamstring.

“I’ll come with you.” Alan said, smiling. “I see you’re feeling better.”

Sam looked at him and her look softened. She smiled and he thought he saw color come up on her cheeks. Alan’s father always said you can trust a person who blushes because they won’t hold anything essential from you. He felt that with Sam it was certainly true.

The two walked up the dirt drive and to the modern farmhouse. It was painted white with navy blue shutters and had a wraparound porch with wooden deck furniture. Alan and Sam discarded their boots on the porch and headed inside, treading on the dark wood floors with sock clad feet. The house was less rustic than Alan’s place, using modern elements to play off the farmhouse look. There was a cold feeling to it that made Sam miss Alan’s place. True to his word the boy had gotten their basket out on the grey granite kitchen counter.

“Thanks for not eating everything before we got in.” Sam remarked to the boy whose bright eyes were staring at the basket.

“I didn’t touch anything.” He said, defensively.

“It’s ok, she didn’t say you did.” Alan reassured.

Sam mussed up his hair, and the boy laughed and pushed her hands away.

“Is she your girlfriend?” the boy asked as Sam washed her hands in the sink. She was scrubbing up to her elbows and incited giggles from Tony.

“Oh, no, Tony. She’s a friend.”

“Ah, Mr. Grant. My dad says you need a girlfriend.”

Sam wiped her hands on a clean kitchen towel and shot Alan a sympathetic look.

“I think it’s time for lunch.” Sam interjected. “Have you washed yet Tony?”

The boy nodded, forgetting all about his previous conversation, then inquired as to the basket’s contents. Sam’s slender hands then pulled out a cold roasted chicken with an apple and walnut salad, homemade cookies with walnuts on the top and a thermos of hot chocolate.

“What are those?” the boy asked. “I’ve never seen any like that before.”

“They’re called Afghans. My family grew up making them and I missed them, so I made them.” 

Alan shot her a sad smile. She averted his gaze as soon as she noticed it, as if it scared her.

“Everything looks great Samantha.” Alan remarked.

“No problem. Hope you like everything.”

They divided the food and drink amongst themselves and ate together, answering Tony’s questions as they did. He asked Sam where she was from, what the cookies were made from, and whether she bought the chicken at the store. Alan sat at the dining table impressed by his friend’s easy, laid-back way with the boy and her genuine engagement with him. He mused to himself that she’d make a good mother and that they’d made a good team earlier. The food was obviously prepared with some care and attention and he couldn’t help but think she’d make a good partner. The image of them together as if this was his own family flashed in his mind and it made his chest ache. Why did Tony have to possess brown eyes like Sam and blond hair like his own mother?

_“Slow down, Alan.”_ He heard a voice in his head say. He knew that voice, the voice of ageless wisdom and reason. He pushed away the image and his body relaxed. He had a suspicion that he was being a bit obvious and Sam was guarding him against being hurt. Only time would tell whether his hunch was correct.

“Well, Tony. Are you going to be ok by yourself or should we stay here with you until someone gets home?” Alan asked. 

Tony looked at the clock in the living room and frowned.

“My mom should be home in an hour.”

“We can stay, Alan. It’s just an hour.” Sam offered. “Maybe we should, however call his mother so she doesn’t wonder about your truck in the drive.”

Alan nodded and he proceeded to contact the hospital where she worked and explain their situation. Sam listened as Alan seemed to be leaving a message with a co-worker, and not the boy’s mother. They continued to chat and the boy asked questions.

“How’d you guys become buddies Mr. Grant?” he asked.

“Well, you know the dinosaur digs I run?”

The boy nodded. “Well, at one of those. She came to help out on the dig and learn about the origin of species, and talk about the possibility that maybe, just maybe, God caused it all.”

“I bet you didn’t like that very much.” The boy remarked. Alan looked over at Sam whose amused smile told him she wouldn’t mind him telling the story.

“Well, I didn’t understand it too well. Then, we got to talking and reading research, and talking some more. I realized some questions I had, some problems that popped in when we applied other sciences to my branch of science.”

“Like what?” the boy asked with inquisitive brown eyes.

“That’s a good question, Tony.” He considered his question. His answer would be loaded with heavy scientific terms that he knew the boy wouldn’t be familiar with. “I just realized some things that science can’t explain and that we needed to relook at some of the theories of the Origin of species.”

“Oh, ok.” Tony replied, as if he’d just told him he liked pizza with anchovies on it.

Sam snickered and excused herself to wash up their dishes. Alan joined in and the two proceeded to clean up while the boy watched TV. Sam made Alan chuckle by dancing to a jingle on a commercial like no one was watching her. Her eyes closed, her body swayed and her full lips turned up in a smile, her dark brown hair that fell to her mid back, swaying back and forth. Alan watched and only looked away when she opened her eyes again.

It wasn’t long before his mother came up the drive in her sensible blue Sedan. Alan met her at the door and the group exchanged greetings and pleasantries before relating the story of the day’s events. His mother, Robin, was upset at the happening’s timing but was grateful for its resolution.

They left with their things in hand and began the journey back to Alan’s place. The sun was lower in the sky but hadn’t yet painted the sky in warm autumn color. Sam gazed out Alan’s truck window, her eyes scanning the environment like she drew strength from it.

“How’s your, um…”

“Hamstring?” Sam finished for him. “Better, like I said about five times previously.”

“Well, you never know,” Alan offered. A moment of silence passed. “Actually, Sam, I’m really quite glad you got out of that alright.”

Sam turned her head and smiled.

“So am I,” she said, “You know besides the pulled butt muscle.”

Alan felt blood rush to his cheeks. Alan’s laughter bubbled up in him at her candor.

“What? Did I say something funny?” Sam said with mock ignorance.

“I’m glad you came to visit Sam.”

“Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keeping the chapters short and sweet, as it's not fun reading 10 pages all at once. I've seen that this story has gotten some hits but PLEASE read and review, so I can grow as a writer. I want to hear from you readers.


	3. Back to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Alan reunite and Alan tests the waters.

September 2003. Missoula airport.

Alan was making his way to the same location having parked his car in the garage to pick up Samantha. He smiled sadly at the thought of her. They’d grown closer after he left the dig last year, after finding out they lived just an hour from each other, they arranged a visit. Then he attended her home church on a whim. He felt an immediate connection with the place, despite the creative, intuitive nature of the people there. They were hardworking, charitable and in need of the reason he offered to them. He was all set to tell her before she left to record her album, but her excitement and conviction about this new venture kept his mouth shut. Samantha had become his best friend in the world, and more than that, a seed of hope had started to grow in him, that they may have a future together. Her smile immediately warmed him when he saw it, her laughter energized him, and her tears awakened the protector in him. Her thoughts made him see the world in a different way. He remembered when he first noticed how innocent her brown eyes were, how soft her wavy brown hair was when his fingers touched it briefly after a friendly embrace, and how enticing her shapely full lips were. Never mind her tall, spindly body that gained new curves in the cooler months, when she overindulged in hot chocolate and it was more appealing to read a book by the fire than to traverse the harsh Montana winter. His hesitation, namely, was the fifteen-year age gap between them and the fact that he’d been her professor at one time. Onlookers may not view their relationship as legitimate knowing how they’d met. It had happened before.

Alan’s eyes scanned the sign in front of him, informing him that her United Airlines flight had indeed arrived from Los Angeles and made his way to the baggage claim area. His eyes looked out for any sign of her, for her familiar wavy hair, her fashionably oversized sweaters, her beloved guitar case; anything that would signal an end their too long separation. His eyes scanned the other travelers, relieved that this airport was small, with only two baggage carousels in the entire airport. It would be easier to find her. Then, he saw her, walking with a couple others. She was dressed in a comfortable, oversized sweater, light grey in color with dark blue bootleg jeans and comfortable flat shoes in a bright scarlet color. Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid down her back, it’s color looking slightly warmer, as if she’d changed its color, or the autumn light was illuminating it bringing out the red undertones in the dark brown strands. His lips turned up in a smile. She, a seasoned traveler, never seemed to lack style and flair. She looked over her shoulder and made eye contact with him.

“Alan!” she shouted. She said something briefly to the man beside her and dropped what she was carrying. Her arms extended out in front of her and she ran to him. Before he knew it, she locked him in an embrace so strong and forceful he almost teetered backwards. He wrapped his arms around her, more to keep them both upright, or so he told himself. He selfishly couldn’t resist a squeeze of her shoulders and a light brush of her hair against his hand.

“Whoa, Sam.” He said. “You alright?” The look in her eyes, it reminded him of when they first reunited after the dig, but it held something else in it. Just what he didn’t know.

“Of course! I’m just happy to be back,” She let him go and backed up a few steps, motioning for him to follow her.

“Was recording difficult?” She laughed sardonically.

“It always is, but not in the way you think.”

“Indulge me.” Alan said.

She looked back at him and continued.

“Oh, just the odyssey of songwriting, the long hours, the reworking and rewriting, the meetings.”

“I hope they weren’t hard on you in LA.”

“Oh, no, not at all, well not the people I was working with. You know I know how to handle myself.”

“Oh yes I do,” He elbowed her lightly as he walked beside her.

She gasped in mock indignation. “Oh really? Well, I never!” She could only keep the mockery up for a moment before laughing.

Alan chuckled.

“How do you put up with a fool like me?” she joked.

Alan’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Sam,” he said, “I don’t mind, you know that.” 

Sam frowned and reached for his hand. She nudged it playfully and frowned deeper, exaggerating it with a slight purse of her lips. 

“Alan, so serious.”

Alan felt heat rush to his cheeks and he self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck. Her pursed lips made his mind wander to what they’d feel like against his.

“I just hate to hear you say things like that,” He admitted.

Sam watched his shy smile, the vulnerable side he was showing more and more to her. The loud, abrasive ringing of the carousel alerting them to the coming luggage distracted them for a moment. Alan stood quietly beside her, watching as the luggage appeared on the belt. He was always so steady for her, reminding Sam of the mountains. She had a nagging feeling in her gut looking at him that something was amiss in him.

“How’s life in Paradise been over the summer?” she inquired.

_“Boring without you.”_ Alan thought to himself. “It’s been great, the church has baptized a few new people. Pastor Trent has finally let me mend some fences at Molly’s place.”

“Finally meaning you let him know afterwards?” Sam offered. Alan went to answer but was distracted by a suitcase he knew to be hers. She’d tied a grey bandana to the handle before she left and the various stickers she’d collected from her travels adorned the outside of the case. Sam attempted to retrieve it, but Alan beat her to it. He thought he heard her scoff but ignored it.

“I know you can, I just want to.” He explained. 

Sam sighed.

“You’re not going to let me carry much are you?”

“Not likely.” He said with a grin. There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

There he was _. “Alan, her Alan. Her Alan? Where did that thought come from?”_ she wondered. She shook her head to get a hold of her thoughts.

“What can I carry then?”

“Your carry-on and your guitar case.” He answered. “Just to the truck and then you’ll have to let me put them in the boot for you.”

She snickered at the use of a Kiwi expression she used but confused everyone else in Montana.

Her luggage, two large bags, her carry on and guitar case rounded out her things. They grabbed them in turn as they came out.

“My life, all in bags.” She said wistfully.

“Well, besides the boxes you had sent ahead of you.” Alan said. “According to Cheryl they all arrived in good shape.”

She and Cheryl had moved in together when they left the dig site. Cheryl planned on leaving as soon as she got a job with a petroleum company, but a job in that industry hadn’t materialized yet. IN the meantime, she worked at the museum as a receptionist. Cheryl’s honest, kind nature and neat as a pin habits made her easy to live with.

“Oh, yeah, those were cheaper to have shipped. You should have seen the acting I had to do to get this put in the coat closet.” Sam said, holding up her guitar case.

“Oscar worthy performance I’m sure.” He said, winking at her. The gesture caught them both off guard.

“You wink now?” Sam teased. “Alan Grant now winks? The summer must have done a number on you.”

“ _Sweetheart you have no idea,”_ Alan thought to himself.

“I’ve always winked, just not with you,” he explained. “Until now.”

“Oh, you know you’re going to tell me all of the stories, right?”

“Well, I can’t tell _all_ of them.” Alan said, pulling her check-in bags along behind him while she carried hers. They were heavy but nothing he couldn’t handle. He was grateful he’d kept himself busy maintaining his property, his workouts with Billy and the long hikes he’d take to blow off steam. He led Sam towards the garage where he’d parked.

“Did you just, ah, never mind,” Sam stammered.

“Don’t worry, I have a limited carnal history.”

“Mine’s nonexistent, I win,” Sam said.

Alan noted the slight frown after the words left her mouth. He knew she was approaching 30 and she was what his father would call “the marrying kind”. She took dating relationships seriously and to be single for so long was wearing on her. He would have offered her a supportive pat on the back had he not been pulling her bags behind him. He wanted to say something in support but wasn’t sure how to word it.

“You’re not missing anything honestly,” Alan said. He heard her scoff next to him. He glanced her way and saw annoyance in her features.

“You don’t have to lie to me Alan,” Sam said, her tone serious.

“The right thing, at the wrong time is still the wrong thing Sam,” Alan retorted. “Trust me, sex is not something to take lightly.”

Sam usually tried to skirt around these things with Alan, finding the subject of sex something better suited to a group setting or an opportunity to divert with humor.

“Oh, don’t worry about me Alan,” Sam said, grinning. “I’ll have plenty of sex when I’m married.” Her smile almost became too bright and gleaming when Alan glanced behind him and saw it. He knew that look, he knew she wasn’t kidding around. “My husband, he’ll be a lucky guy.”

Alan was grateful for the cool air on his face as it hid the evidence of the blood in his body rushing to his face at her comment. His skin felt heated and stretched.

“Calm down little filly.” He whispered under his breath. Really, he was chiding himself for being slightly aroused at her comment.

“Pardon?” Sam asked.

Alan made a sound of acknowledgement and a smile tugged at his lips.

“So, you didn’t, meet anyone in LA?” Alan asked. He was fishing, he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself. Sam chuckled sadly.

“Met yes, dated, no.” she said with a hint of sadness in her voice. It made him stop himself mid stride and let go of her bags. He surprised her by his movement and she startled.

“Sam,” he started.

“No, don’t.” Sam said. She knew he’d start either a lecture or a state a cliché he didn’t believe. “I’m here now, it’s a new season, I have to adapt.”

He placed his hand on her shoulder, hesitantly as if he was scared to touch her. The warm touch made a knot form in her throat. She cleared her throat to be rid of it, but a tear escaped her eye anyway. She wiped it away hastily.

“Let’s just go, Alan. Onward and upward.” She said, trying to ignore the rising emotion in her. She didn’t have to be tossed around by the changing tides of emotion. Alan had often chided her for being so easily influenced by it and forgetting the reality of situations. Alan surprised her by closing the distance between them and reaching to embrace her. “Let’s go.” Sam said quickly. “Cheryl will be waiting for me.”

“Sammy,” Alan said. It was a term he’d never used with her before. “Cheryl is working for the next few hours, so we’re stuck with each other a while. That is, if you’re feeling up to having me around.” Alan knew that when she was overwhelmed she’d hole up by herself for a day or so, to gather herself, much like he did. Sometimes, she’d even taken to doing so at his home, with him in his study and she in the living room. It was comforting to know someone was close by if they wanted to speak but there were times where words weren’t needed.

His hand brushed the side of her arm affectionately, like one of her brothers might have done. The thought that she may have wanted to blow him off to sulk was painful. She looked into his clear blue eyes, took in the scenery behind his head. Dressed in his brown fall jacket, blue flannel shirt and blue jeans and his signature fedora on his head. He was the quintessential picture of this place, rugged and strong, but his eyes were surprisingly gentle. His blue eyes were even more pronounced by his shirt. She couldn’t help but smile.

“Of course.” Sam said. Her heart felt warmer than it had in a long time and she could brood no longer.

“Alright, your chariot awaits.” Alan said. A smile appeared again on his lips.

The butterflies returned to her stomach. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him as he strode forward pulling her bags behind him, heading to the familiar red pick-up she’d ridden in a dozen times before.

True to his promise, he didn’t let her lift much into the truck’s bed, just her carry on and guitar case, and Sam suspected it was because she loved it so much. It was fine instrument with a rich sound that she’d mourn any loss of. He had bungee cords in the back to help secure it further and after some fumbling and some laughter and instruction from Alan, she secured the case. 

He gave her his hand to steady her as she lowered her body from the truck bed back to the pavement below. She thanked him, he replied with a nod and a smile.

When they were all buckled in and clear of the parking lot, Sam breathed out a long breath. There was no longer concrete and automobiles blocking the view of the autumn foliage and a breathtaking view of the mountains and she was enjoying the afternoon with Alan.

“I missed this.” She said.

Alan glanced over at her briefly. He was unsure what exactly she was referring to.

“This being?” he asked.

“Montana, Autumn, Cheryl,” She listed off. “Brisk air.”

“Hot chocolate and books by a fire,” He said smiling.

“You remembered.” Sam said, leaning her head on the window and looking at him with half-lidded eyes. Was she tired or flirting with him? Tired, he was safer to guess she was tired.

“That’s what friends do, right?” Alan stated. His statement was to test her.

“Yes, Alan, they do.”

“So, you were saying you fixed Molly’s fence finally. Anything else going on in the community?”

“I signed up to help out with the fall festival.” Alan said. Sam laughed. Alan shot her a look that said, “What for?”

“I’m sorry, but that’s the Halloween alternative event, it has kids, lots of kids.” Sam said between giggles. She knew, from the hours of conversations that they’d had that his last relationship ended because he didn’t want kids. He was kind with them, but always looked out of place around them, like he was unsure what to do or say.

“I remember from last year.” Alan said, remembering how many from the church and surrounding community came out. He had busied himself with the chili cookoff for the night, coming in second place for his venison chili. It didn’t stop a little girl, Emma, from grabbing on his leg and holding on tight. Alan, unknowing of how to handle the situation given his savior’s call for meekness, walked around stiff legged on one side to prevent hurting her or himself for a good fifteen minutes. Her mother eventually was pulled away from her conversation to pull the girl away, also chiding Alan for not reprimanding her. Alan then learned that being a pushover wasn’t what Christ meant in that “the meek will inherit the earth.”

“Mr. Alan, you’re so strong, will you marry me?” Sam repeated, it was the line the girl used on him to keep herself on his leg.

“Sammy…”

“Oh, come on, Alan, you are strong.”

_If only you knew Sam._ He thought to himself.

Sam sighed and shook her head. “So, have you been training with Billy?”

“Yeah, why?” he answered.

“I just think you look different now.” Sam said.

“You can tell?”

“Yeah, I mean, all it takes is a hug from you to notice you’ve been lifting.” Sam said.

Alan felt his mouth go dry. She was being friendly with him again, the kind of friendly that bordered on flirtatious. In her culture it was normal to be close to men in a platonic way and that the banter she tossed around wasn’t always meant to imply romantic interest. She’d accidently led a few men on that way in the past, according to their pastor. Sam was kind and friendly but could put her foot in her mouth with her candor. “Not that you were out of shape before,” she continued.

“Nice to know I’ve made progress.”

“Yes, you have Alan.”

“So, you hungry Sam?” Alan said, as they approached where Sam and Cheryl lived.

“I could eat.”

“Good.” He said, his lips turning up in a smile.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Me, no. I’ve been around the block enough to know it’s up to the woman.”

“Since you know me so well, and remembered I like hot chocolate and reading by a fire when it gets cold. Guess. I trust you.”

“Pasta.” He guessed without much thought.

“Why do you think that?”

“Well, LA is health conscious, which you are to a degree. You sacrifice when you feel you need to, so you ate a lot of chicken and vegetables.”

“I told you that, yes.” Sam answered. A recording artist’s payment advance had to be spent wisely and she wasn’t willing to blow her money on takeout or expensive meals. She’d often bring precooked chicken and vegetables or hastily thrown together casseroles with said ingredients to the studio for subsistence. 

“So out or in at your place?”

“Oh, in.”

“In it is.” Alan said, grinning. It was good that his hunch paid off because he had already bought a few ingredients to cook with.

“Who’s cooking?”

“Me, you, both of us. Your choice Sammy.” Alan said, liking the feel of her nickname on his lips. Sam shot him a strange look, as if she realized something. She could take what he said any way she wanted. _I’ll be fine either way,_ he resolved.

“I think I’ll unpack first, then help, is that ok?”

Alan nodded. “It’s ok.”

As long as he was with her anything was ok. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you guys think of Sam? Good, bad? Let me know!


	4. Three's a crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little longer than most chapters. Cheryl is reintroduced (the girl Billy was flirting with in JP3) as Sam's roommate and close friend. They were buddies on the dig site where Sam and Alan met. Alan navigates the money wrench Cheryl throws his way when she arrives sooner than expected.

A few moments later they were pulled up the apartment Samantha shared with Cheryl when she was in town. The apartments were situated at the base of Mount Jumbo in the East Village area of Missoula. They weren’t the most luxurious of apartments in the area, but they suited the two women and the rent was cheaper than the ones closer to downtown. Alan parked at their building that he’d been to countless times, mostly with mutual friends but sometimes alone when Sam was helping him compile research on the gap theory and paleontology as it related to Christian beliefs.

“You going to let me unload the boot or no?” Sam said, after exiting the car.

“You know, I know you’re strong enough to lift them, I just, want to do it for you today,” Alan said, frowning. “I thought you’d like the help, that’s all.”

Sam sighed. Why was their interaction so strained now? She almost didn’t trust he was telling the whole truth. She was raised in an extremely egalitarian culture, where some gestures that were chivalrous in the United States were affronts to feminism in New Zealand.

“Oh Alan,” Sam said. She rubbed her brow. Alan made a shushing sound and she heard his footsteps draw closer. She looked up and saw his arms inviting her for an embrace.

“Shh, it’s ok, Sammy. Stop. Just come here.” He said. She leaned forward and he wrapped his arms around her and spoke again, his head now resting against hers. “Please sweetheart, trust me.”

“I do.” She whispered. He pulled back and took her head in his hands. His right hand touched the side of her face, loosening a strand of hair from her braid, as his fingers traced a line from her temple to her jaw. Her eyes widened and her lips parted ever so slightly.

A shout from somewhere near them make them jump away from each other. Sam looked towards the voice and saw Cheryl had seen them and had yelled from the front door of the apartment building.

“Cheryl! Hey!” she said as her curly haired brunette friend sprung forward. Cheryl always had a bouncy, easy going way about her which made her a likeable person and kindness that made her a good friend. Sam’s thoughts couldn’t help but swirl as she hugged her and exchanged pleasantries. _Did Cheryl see what just happened? Did Alan try and make a pass at me? Would I have let him? Why did I get chills when he touched me?_

“I see you and Alan have been catching up well.” Cheryl said with a bright smile. Sam’s stomach dropped at her words. She was unsure whether she was making conversation or if she’d seen how Alan touched her.

“Well, we were until I insisted on unloading her bags.” Alan said while unloading Sam’s carry-on bag from the truck’s bed.

“Oh, man, you didn’t lecture him on sexism, again did you?” Cheryl asked.

“Not in so many words, Cheryl, but we worked it out.” He said, throwing a wink at Sam.

“He winks now?” Cheryl whispered so only Sam could hear. Sam responded with a shushing noise.

“Yes, the serious-suraus is evolving to a more playful sort.” Sam whispered to her friends brief laugh and then elbow to the ribs.

“Sam, careful. That felt like a barb.” Cheryl said in a rare moment of correction. Cheryl was usually comforting and accepting to a fault.

“Sorry,” was all Sam could respond with. “Anyway, why are you home? I thought Alan said you’d be at work for a few more hours.”

“Oh, I asked to get off early, I just didn’t tell Alan. Can I help you with anything Alan?” Cheryl asked, turning to Alan. Alan’s gaze turned towards the woman.

“Yes, actually, Sam’s hungry, do you mind doing a perusal of your kitchen and letting us know what you have in the way of pasta and salad in the apartment?”

Cheryl smiled.

“Why, no I don’t mind one bit.” She answered. She turned back to Sam. “Take it easy on him, he’s excited you’re back. Welcome back Sammy girl.”

Sam smiled at her nickname Cheryl dubbed her with.

“Thanks Cheryl baby.”

Alan and Sam then began the work of getting her baggage up the stairs. Alan was gentlemanly and carried her heavy bag up two flights of stairs without complaint or incident.  
“I’ll take it from here Sammy, you can unpack. I’ll be back and then I can get to making you something to eat.” Alan said, before turning on his heel to go back downstairs.

Sam wanted to say something, but he was halfway down the first set of stairs before she could formulate a sentence. She took in her lone carry on and guitar with her and walked into the opened apartment. Cheryl had left the door open for them, so she strode across the aged wood floors, headed to her room. The room was as she left it for the most part. It was tidy and even free of dust she noted, as she ran her hand across her desk in the room. The autumn light streamed through the window, and she saw that someone had changed her bedding, from the white duvet to a burgundy red one. A heavier red striped flannel blanket was laid across the bed at its foot, and the pillow cases had been changed. She walked around her room and saw a clear vase holding orange chrysanthemums on her bedside table. Cheryl sure had gone the extra mile to welcome her back.

She made quick work of unpacking her carry on, hoping it would distract her from the racing thoughts she had earlier. There was something different about him, about how they interacted now. She noticed even in the writing process, she was still writing musings on love despite not being in a relationship for years. She had decided in LA that if the right man came along she’d be ready to find out if said man was marriage material.

A rapt at her door frame interrupted her thoughts. She looked in the direction of her door. It was Alan, along with the rest of her bags.

“Hey, Sammy. Are you feeling more like spaghetti and meatballs or mac and cheese?”

Sam smiled but didn’t answer. He was leaning in the doorway, in an easy, confident way. He’d taken his hat off and his jacket likely was neatly hung up in their hall closet, like he always did. He was consistent and steady like that. He also was attracting her gaze tonight, like a marble statue of a man in a museum she couldn’t take her eyes off. He then moved closer to pull her bags and place them just inside the room.

“Hmm, macaroni and cheese out of a box or homemade?” Sam asked, taking the bags from him.

“No contest, homemade, you think I’d give you anything less than the best?”

Sam’s heart beat faster at the comment, but she didn’t reply to it. She took a breath and let it out, willing it to slow down.

“Will you let me help you this time?”

“I think I’ll let you wash your hands and grate the cheese on the counter.”

Sam did as she was instructed and made her way to the kitchen, where Cheryl fluttering about the kitchen, getting out the kitchen tools they’d need.

Sam picked up the cheese on the counter and noted the type it was. She knew the brand to be expensive, and indeed it was 10 dollars’ worth of sharp white cheddar.

“Did you buy this Cheryl?” she asked, while opening the package.

“Oh, no, Alan did.” Cheryl said, before gasping aloud.

“What? What happened?” Sam said, concerned. She’d gasped as if she’d cut herself or make a terrible mistake.

“I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that.” Cheryl admitted. She then laughed loudly, then more softly when she saw Alan coming over.

“What’s so shocking about Alan buying cheese?” Sam, asked, oblivious to the man behind her.

“Nothing, it’s just unusual, Alan’s a little, well, cheap.”

“A bad habit worth breaking today.” He said, stepping past a startled Sam. He gently brushed by her and began to work on filling the larger pot with water. Sam laughed.

“Well, well, Alan Grant, is evolving right before our eyes.” Sam teased.

“Now, there’s my Sammy.” Alan said with a smile. He stole a bit of cheese and ate it before getting a half-hearted punch in the side. He chuckled and batted her hand away.

Sam’s breath caught in her throat and she took a deep breath to quell that familiar feeling. A fluttering feeling of attraction that he’d awakened in her. She hadn’t felt it in so long, but maybe it had been there all along. Maybe she was reading into it. She’d had other male friends be affectionate, other male friends be generous with time and attention. She’d have to wait for confirmation that he, indeed, did intend to pursue her. But for now, she’d help make their early dinner.

Alan wouldn’t have wanted her to be overwhelmed by his gestures, but she was more observant than he thought she’d be after a 3-hour plane ride. He didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep the ruse up of being her close friend, without having his secret spill out of him. If Cheryl hadn’t come out to meet them he may have tried to kiss her. He glanced over at Sam who was grating the cheese he’d bought from the specialty cheese store for tonight. He’d bought that and ingredients for meatballs, and various salad fixings from the local grocer. It was extra effort on his part, but he didn’t care; she was worth it.

They worked around each other like a well-choregraphed dance, until Alan insisted Samantha relax on the couch until the dish was finished in the oven. 

“So, what was the hardest song to work on?” Alan asked while chopping a carrot for the salad. Cheryl and Samantha were now seated next to one another, close like female friends often did.

“Well, I did have a song I kept reworking and I’m still not really 100 percent happy with it but everyone who has listened to it has loved it.”

“What’s it about?”

“Ahh, you see I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” She said with narrowed eyes.

“I think I could defend myself.” Alan retorted. He tossed the cut vegetables in the salad bowl.

Sam shook her head.

“Slow down stallion. You’ll get to hear it before it releases.”

Alan took a breath in and let it out. She’d heard his “little filly” comment he thought he’d been careful about.

“Stallion?” Cheryl repeated. Her eyebrow was raised at her roommate.

“Inside joke.” Sam replied. Cheryl’s eyebrow didn’t relax as much as the rest of her face contorted.

“You’re weird, but I love you.”

Done with his work with the salad, Alan moved to set the table, and Cheryl jumped up to help.

Sam went to do the same.

“Sit.” Cheryl said.

“Wow, you too?”

“Yes, just for today, tomorrow you can go back to setting the table yourself.” Her friend replied.

“So, did you feel supported by the church you went to in LA?” Alan asked.

“Oh yes, they were wonderful. I got plenty of support from Covenant Community too.”

Covenant Community was the non-denominational church Alan and Samantha both attended. The men in the church had been supportive and challenging to Alan, and good friends to Samantha. There was a newcomer which he didn’t personally care for. He was a mutual friend of the worship pastor but something about the man put him on edge. A new man by the name of Brian O’ Connell they’d recruited to play the drums in the band. While he had a happy-go-lucky attitude and was popular with those he met, there was something too slick about him. Alan kept his distance and watched him interact. Lately he’d be volunteering with the youth and was quite popular among the young girls with his Belfast Irish accent, dark hair and eyes, and a strong form. He likely wouldn’t be single for long. He prayed he only attracted the attention of those his age, and not the impressionable teenage girls.

“Any newcomers?”

“Yes, one man you don’t know about.” Alan offered.

“Does this man have a name?”

“Brian, I forget his last name. He’s in the band now, plays the drums.” Alan said, like he was reading off a bunch of facts he hated. Sam laughed.

“You don’t like him, do you?” she asked.

“No, honestly I don’t. He might grow on me.”

“What’s he like?” Sam asked, curious about the newcomer.

“You’ll meet him Sunday, I really would rather enjoy dinner with you two, if that’s ok.” Alan insisted. Sam nodded her head. If Alan was keeping something from her, she’d find out eventually. If Alan didn’t like someone there was usually an underlying reason for it. Sunday was only three days away as it was. She wasn’t on the roster to sing with the band this week, but she’d be part of the congregation.

“I think I’m going to unpack some more, call me when dinner’s ready.” Sam said, getting up from the couch. Alan made no protest and assured her he’d call her when everything was ready.

Now back in her room she opened the larger of her bags and began removing the clothes from it and hung the shirts and pants neatly in the closet. She then folded her sweaters and knit items and placed them in her dresser. She was proud of herself for refraining from purchasing anything new while she was away. Her style was comfortable, mostly causal jeans, t-shirts, sweaters and tennis shoes and flats unless the occasion called for anything different. Dresses and formal wear were for chuch, holidays and gigs. She loved simple shapes and clean lines, things that wore well and were well made.

She ran her hand over one of the dresses she brought with her as she hung it up. She’d bought it a year ago in faith that she’d wear it sooner rather than later. It was a floor length, black sequined long-sleeved dress that held her body closely in the bodice but gracefully flared out at her knees and flowed to the floor. It covered her but didn’t hide that she was indeed a woman. She resolved in that moment that she’d wear it by the new year.

A knock sounded at her door. It was Cheryl this time.

“Dinner’s ready.” Her friend said smiling.

Sam acknowledged her and went out to the dining room table sat close to the kitchen. The table was small, just enough for four people to sit comfortably. Cheryl and Samantha took their seats as Alan poured them water into wine glasses.

“Wow, posh.” Sam remarked. Alan didn’t reply, only smiled. Cheryl looked around the table and nudged Sam playfully.

“What?” Sam whispered. Cheryl waggled her eyebrows. Sam’s jaw dropped at her friend’s implication and gave her a light kick under the table.

“I think it’s time to pray.” Alan stated. “Would you like to…”

Sam agreed before the words were out of his mouth.

“Lord, thank you for this meal, for my safe travels, and for good friends to come home to. Bless the food, if you can, it’s likely not all that good for us…” Sam said as Alan chuckled. “…but you said to do everything we do to your glory, so help us do that, in Jesus name, Amen.”

“Amen.” Alan said with humor on his voice.

“You can see why I ask her to pray, it’s always amusing or profound or both.” Alan said to Cheryl in particular. “Would you mind handing your bowl to me Sam? It’s too hot to pass around the dish.” She did as he asked, and he carefully spooned his creation into the bowl, which Sam now noticed smelled and looked amazing. He had even gone through the trouble of adding breadcrumbs and fresh herbs to the top. He did the same with Cheryl’s, serving himself last and let the girls distribute the salad between themselves on the small plates they’d set out.

“Can I get you a beer Alan?” Sam asked, wanting to do something for him. Alan often enjoyed a beer at night or with dinner, though she never liked it much, they usually kept a few in the fridge for friends who did.

“Oh, no thanks Sam.” Alan said.

Samantha suddenly missed her new nickname of “Sammy” being called “Sam” again. She took a forkful of the pasta dish with her fork and tried it. He’d added some cayenne or something else spicy to it to cut the richness and the sauce was smooth with a sharp bite from quality cheddar, with an herby finish from the breadcrumb and herbs. She suppressed the urge to make an inappropriate noise but her facial expression must have said it all. Cheryl laughed, and Alan smiled and took a sip of his water.

“Alan,” Sam began. “This is really good.”

Cheryl tried the dish and echoed her statement with the noise Sam suppressed. Sam chuckled.

“Well…” Alan said in a way he did when he was trying to deflect. “I’m glad you like it. I read a few recipes and that one made the most sense to me.”

“You scoured recipes beforehand?” Cheryl asked.

“Guilty as charged.” Alan said.

A chill ran down Sam’s spine.

“You planned this.” Sam said.

Alan blinked in surprise and put his fork down. _Did she know? Was he too forward? Too vague? Was she offended?_

“The pick-up, my baggage, the meal,” Her eyes began to tear. Alan held his breath. She continued. “Cheryl with the flowers and getting off work early.”

Alan’s stomach felt butterflies in his stomach. Maybe it was all too soon, the timing off. He’d never planned for Cheryl to be there either, as he’d taken a copy of their key to prepare ahead of time. He thanked God then for his good relationship with Cheryl, but she threw him a curve ball by returning early. He was hoping the kind gestures would get Samantha and himself talking about their relationship and then he could tell her. “I just feel so loved.” Sam said finally. “Thank you.” Their eyes locked at the words “thank you.”

She wiped away her tears and joked about dinner getting cold if she recited a monologue. So, they ate chatted, and laughed. Alan’s heart sank deeper within him.

He excused himself to go to the restroom. He turned on the cold water and splashed his face with the water. He looked at his reflection asked God for guidance.

_Tell her._ A voice in his head said.

“I will.” He told the voice in his head. “Just not today.”

Alan spent a few more hours with the girls before he could bear it no longer. The more she laughed, the more she told him stories about Los Angeles, the more he realized how he loved her. The thought of getting in the way of her dream was enough to turn his stomach. He made an excuse about wanting to be home before it got too dark, as driving an hour to his home could be treacherous if a freak rainstorm hit in the mountains.

Not to be undone, Sam took him aside before he could leave, taking him outside onto the balcony. The evening was still with the sun setting behind them.

“I hope it was worth it.” Sam said smiling, in a playful mood again. He knew it to be her fake playful mood she used to cover up discomfort.

“Well…” Alan remarked. He was rewarded with a playful touch that felt almost as if she tried to tickle his side. He pushed her hand away and copied her gesture. He let himself get caught in the moment. It left their faces far too close for his comfort and hers it seemed, as she turned her face away from him.

“I hope you know how missed you were.” She said.

“Who me?” he said, genuinely surprised.

“Yeah.” She breathed out. “You, Alan Richard Grant. There’s no other Alan I could have missed more.” She said, taking his hand and squeezing it briefly before letting it go. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Sure Sammy.” He said, as she opened the door and headed back towards their front door. He retrieved his coat and put it on but was puzzled to see his hat had gone missing. He looked around to see Sam standing with her hands on her hips defiantly, with his hat on. It oddly fit her head well and suited her in a strange way that made him smile.

“Sammy…” he said, wagging his finger at her playfully. He held his hand out for the hat and she frowned but took the hat off but instead of handing it to him, she crossed the distance between them and lifted it to put it on him. Alan stopped her by quickly snapping it up. “I think I should really go.” He said apologetically. She sighed, nodded and walked him to the door like she promised. She followed him outside the apartment and closed the door behind them. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears as she moved in to hug him once again. They embraced tightly, her head resting on his shoulder, as a few tears fell.

“See you soon?” she asked, still holding onto him, her voice slightly muffled.

“Of course, sweetheart.” He breathed into her hair.

He pulled back from her then. In that moment, Sam felt as if her heart had changed.

“Goodnight, for now.” Alan said, before brushing her arm. He was about to turn when he heard Sam make a noise and move forward suddenly. Before he could react, he felt her lips press against his cheek and quickly turn away darting back inside her apartment.

He stood there stunned and touched his cheek. He felt warm and tingly where her lips had pressed. His heart sank when he heard the telltale sound of a deadbolt lock engaging the door. He let out a breath and headed down the stairs. This sure complicated everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this. I know it's not as Paleontology related as some fanfics but I promise those conversations will be coming up in the narrative. Origin of species and such is still on Alan's mind. Sam's just more intriguing to him, and come on, he deserves a little love in his life after Ellie, right? Please leave me a review, as it lets me know what you all think, and helps me improve. Thanks!


	5. The stirring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumors catch up to you eventually, Sam and Alan are no exception. Cheryl and Sam talk over those rumors as Sam wrestles with feelings of attraction to Alan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some character interaction with Cheryl and Sam, helping to establish and show Sam and Alan's history and connection, along with their background.

Chapter break- The Stirring 

Sam was grateful that Cheryl was speaking on the phone to someone in her room. There were very few secrets between them, but she’d like to keep this one to herself. Something was changing in her. Maybe that’s why she was tempted to take a photograph he showed her from when he was a younger man and keep it for herself. She had teased him then, telling him he’d “once been a looker”. Truth be told she still found him handsome, and the photo had awakened her to it. She waited with her back against the door, waiting until she couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore before moving away. Her ears then strained for the sound of his pickup outside. The sounds were oddly loud, and it felt colder than she remembered. She looked around and saw she’d unknowingly left the balcony door open and the cool breeze caused a shiver to run through her. She was getting those a lot tonight. She went and closed it, rubbing her hands against her arms to warm up. She debated whether to turn the heat in the apartment on and decided she’d better get to unpacking the remainder of her things. Otherwise, they’d put stress on her already cluttered mind. 

Once in her room again she felt like she was on a precipice again. Like she had the first day of the dig in Montana, where she’d met Alan, Billy and Cheryl. She could still see the way he’d looked that day, strong, confident and the sadness that lingered in his blue eyes. She’d longed to ease the ache she saw there and in the coming days his hope had been renewed but not after a fight. Not after Billy and herself had butted heads and a conversation started between the professor and herself. One of mystery, one of faith, and the meaning of things beyond their control. 

“Lord, I need you.” She breathed out into the air. She wanted the reassuring warmth, the release of worry prayer brought her, a sense that she was not alone. “Help Alan too. I don’t know what’s going on…”

Ask, a voice in her head said. She shook her head. 

“No, I can’t.”

You can!

“I can’t lose him! I won’t!” 

Think Samantha, why can’t you lose him? The voice asked.

Thinking, something Alan taught her more about how to do, rationally and precisely. She laughed at the irony. She listed the reasons in her head. He identified her weakness for all emotional appeals when dealing with life and people early on in their friendship. He took it like a mission of sorts to help her sort out her preconceived notions and formulate theories. She started to list reasons in her head, he was steady, he felt safe, he got on with her like a house on fire, he had a sense of humor, he was handy, he was humble despite his successes and apparent genius. He was smart enough to let his yes be yes and his no be no. He didn’t usually sign up for things that he was unprepared for. He questioned just about everything and was still sorting things out. He made her think when all she wanted to do was cry. He respected her thoughts, even when he didn’t agree with them. His love for God was strong, despite his questions. She may be able to live without him, but she didn’t want to. Not anymore. 

She made herself busy with her task of unpacking, praying as she went, requesting nothing, just thanking God for the day and the people in her life, for him.   
She was mentally and physically tired when she placed the last item in its place and moved her suitcases into the storage unit in their building. Cheryl seemed to be talking on the phone to someone when she came back. She guessed it was a work friend, or possibly Billy, Alan’s protegee that called a few times a week. She headed back to her room, changed into long sleep pants and a t-shirt for bed and turned in, turning her light off before her head hit the pillow. A knock at the door right before she fell asleep roused her. She groaned and turned on her light. It was one thing to be roused from sleep, it was another to almost be asleep and be roused. 

“Come in.” she murmured. “Everything ok?” 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I think,” Cheryl answered. 

Sam remained unconvinced. 

“Is it Billy? Alan? Work?” Sam asked.

“Nothing’s bothering me, Sammy baby, just wondered if we could chat like we did before you left.” 

The last night she spent in Montana, Sam had trouble sleeping so Cheryl crawled into her bed with her and talked until Sam fell asleep. The gesture had been comforting and sisterly, much like the friendship she had with her former roommate, Megan. Megan had moved out of their apartment after marrying her fiancé, Chase right before Sam left for the dig site. The two women kept in contact, calling once a week to fill the other in on events, work, insights, and spiritual struggles in busy times. In quieter times they were attached at the hip. 

“Yeah, I’d like that actually. We didn’t talk after dinner.” Sam moved to one side of her double bed to make room for her friend and Cheryl laid next to her, both women lying on their sides. 

“You have fun tonight?” Cheryl asked. Her tone was oddly bright. 

“Yes,” Sam answered. She had a feeling Cheryl was leading into something. 

“Good, it’s what he, I mean, we wanted.” 

Sam sat up on an elbow. 

“Cheryl, if there’s something you’re not supposed to say please don’t break a confidence,” Sam said. She knew Cheryl could be prone to blurting things out. She’d ruined a birthday surprise for Billy that summer that way. 

Cheryl sighed. A moment of silence hung in the air.

“Alan was acting odd tonight, did you notice?” she said. 

“Odd, how so?” Sam asked, more to get her opinion than snoop. She’d noticed it too, but it scared her to inquire. 

“He was all over the place, laughing with us, joking with you, then looking really, well, uncomfortable.”

Sam was grateful she didn’t mention the man making eyes at her across the room or planning the evening almost like a date. The thought made her stomach flutter.   
“It may have been because he wasn’t planning on you being there until after dinner.” Sam answered. 

Cheryl uttered a soft curse. 

“Oh, sorry, Sam.” 

Her friend wasn’t the sort who swore like a sailor and neither was Samantha. Samantha could be frank and sometimes crass but curse words were not normally uttered in everyday conversations. Cheryl then felt that she should make her feel more comfortable by following her lead. 

“You don’t have to apologize. Anyway, Alan wasn’t expecting you to be along till later, maybe that made him feel like the rhythm of the evening was off.” She said thoughtfully. 

“Alan, you know, is close to me. Closer to me now than Billy is about certain things.” 

“Really. Huh. They seem close to me.” Cheryl remarked. Her eyes grew inquisitive. “Can I ask you a question?” 

Sam smiled. 

“Shoot.”

“Did you know there were rumors on the dig site about you?”

“The rumor that I was a mole?” She asked, humor in her voice. 

“Well there were rumors on the dig site, about your involvement with Alan.” Cheryl said, her tone serious. The way she emphasized “involvement” made Sam’s gut clench. 

“Seriously? What made people think something was going on?” Sam exclaimed. Anger and confusion rose in her with such force she was suddenly fighting back the urge to cry. Cheryl reached forward and touched her arm. Sam tensed. 

“Hey, it’s ok. You can tell me anything Sam, I won’t judge you.” Cheryl said softly. 

Sam took a deep breath and let it out, gathering her thoughts and wits. 

“What were the rumors exactly?” Sam asked pointedly. 

“That you went into his office one night and drank scotch.” 

Sam let out a humorless laugh. 

“That’s all it was?! Drank scotch yes, but it was diluted with diet Cola because he wouldn’t let me drink it straight. We talked about the dig, my goals, my complaints, my questions. Even got him to open to me emotionally about something painful. I couldn’t leave him Cheryl. If Billy had been there to toast his sorrows it wouldn’t have happened.”

“So, it was just a drink and a chat.” 

“Yes and no. If you phrase it like earlier it sounds like we got pissed together and talked about bones.” As soon as the sentence left her mouth she covered it and laughed. Her friend followed with a hearty laugh. Sam was grateful for a break in the tension. 

“I’m guessing that’s not what you meant,’ said Cheryl. “You know, that’s not the only rumor, Sam.” 

“What else could there be?” Sam asked, curious since she wasn’t terribly close with the students besides her. She always had a feeling Cheryl acted as a shield against the whispers around the dig. She had been proven correct. 

“That you guys were…” Cheryl said with a knowing look and a raised brow. Sam felt a unfamiliar feeling gnaw at her at her implication. Sadness. 

“Oh, no.” Sam answered with a frown. “I don’t know where those rumors found any footing.” 

She heard her friend sigh. “What?” she asked.

“I, I don’t think they were baseless rumors Sam.” 

“No, they were. Trust me. We were and are friends, good friends,” she explained, her tone clipped. She didn’t know why, but when the words left her mouth they felt metallic on her tongue as if she just lied. She knew what they hadn’t done but she couldn’t speak for her future self. After the way he’d acted with her, the way his strong hands gently caressed her face, the way he looked at her, it all made her feel stirring in her gut. A pang of want had resounded in her gut when his penetrating blue eyes studied her from across the room. 

A moment passed and Sam settled back down on her side. Cheryl took it as a signal she’d relaxed. Her friend reached over and played with a strand of Sam’s hair that had fallen in her face. She spoke again. 

“So, did LA bring anyone special into your sights?” Cheryl asked. Her eyelids looked heavier than before, and Sam hoped she may leave her to sleep soon. Sleep would better clear her head and gain perspective. 

“No.” Sam said. “Just special, talented people who played on my album. No beaus.” Again, Sam felt as if she was lying somehow. She pushed the feeling away. 

Cheryl acknowledged her with a frown and a stroke on her arm. Sam watched through sleepy eyelids as her friend’s eyes wandered slowly around the room.

“You like the new bedspread?” 

“Yes, Cheryl, they’re lovely, thank you.” Sam’s eyes were getting heavy again, the alarm from her friend’s questions fading from her mind. 

“You’re welcome,” Her friend said. A soft smile lining her face. Her eyes fluttered shut more and more each passing moment, as sleep was starting to take hold. “And the flowers are pretty too, he did such a good job with them.” She said, before her voice trailed off. 

Sam’s eyes opened slowly at her words. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the situation. The weightiness of hope was almost too much to bear. She could choose in that moment to let the warm feeling of hope spread through her or let the cold chill of doubt creep and steal it away. Sam reached behind herself carefully, turning the light off once again behind her. Her friend didn’t stir. 

Sleep came a while later but not before a prayer was uttered for the day ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Please leave constructive comments as they help tremendously in my writing.


	6. Friendly Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old flames show up and a new one is threatened by some "friendly advice".

Chapter six: Friendly Advice 

Sam grabbed her keys off the kitchen counter and waved goodbye to her roommate. Today was Sunday, and her first back in her community church. She loved being with others, learning, growing, and talking about the thing that brought them together, faith. She thanked God for every single one of the them. The friendly and bright, the rude and damaged, the well-off, the poor, they all had a place there. Rain was softly falling this morning, a remnant from the night’s previous rainstorm, but the sun was peaking out from the clouds the more she drove in the direction of the gathering place. It was in a part of Missoula that was farther from downtown than she lived. She pulled into the parking lot and waved at the parking attendant, Oliver. The man loved to assist the church wherever he could. He was an aging man with white hair and weathered features but had bright, kind green eyes.

“Hey Ollie.” She said.

“Hey Samantha, how was your adventure in California?”

“Oh, quite busy, with the album recording and all.”

“I’m sure it’s just great.”

“Well, it’s about to come out in a month so maybe you’ll hear it.”

“I’ll get it for sure.”

“I appreciate that. How’s Bonnie?”

“Ah, she’s doing better.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful, praise God.” Oliver’s wife Bonnie had been battling cancer and the thought of her getting better was an encouragement to her.

Sam entered the church’s front doors and the greeters exchanged pleasantries with her. She was happy to see them. She took a few more steps and her breath caught in her throat. Her face drained of color and she felt as if she’d seen a ghost. The Brian Alan had spoken about was in front of her. Brian O’ Connell, was standing at the top of the stairs chatting with a giggling teenage girl she knew to be Rachel. Brian was the sort of man who looked like he was picked straight out of central casting, with dark brown eyes, curly raven hair and a chiseled face and features. He had laughing eyes and charm for days. Sam knew it to be a deceptive charm that had taken her down paths she’d rather forget. 

“Hey Sam!” the girl called before she could duck away. The raven-haired man turned and saw her.

“Sammy Jordan!” he exclaimed. He crossed the space between them and Sam could feel herself tense. “I never thought I’d lay my eyes on that face again.”

Her eyes widened.

“Tell me you remember me, Jordie.” He said, using his nickname for her when she was eighteen.

She went to open her mouth and prayed silently that someone would drag her away from him.

“Good morning Sam.” She heard the familiar voice of Alan behind her. She breathed out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in. She turned to him and smiled.

“Alan, good morning.” Alan gave her a hug and she returned it as she usually did.

“I think Debbie wants you see you about something,” he said.

“Oh, yeah, sorry Brian, I’ll catch you later.” She said. She didn’t even look him in the eye. She followed Alan into a side room next to their small bookstore and he took her by the arm.

“You seemed stunned.” He explained. He watched as her throat bobbed and she took in a deep breath and let it out. Alan had a feeling Sam’s past walked in along with the Irish rogue.

“You didn’t lie, did you?” Sam asked.

“No, Debbie does want to see you, I just couldn’t stand…never mind.” He said.

Sam made a sound like a teenager realizing they were wrong.

“Maybe I should give him a chance, it has been years since I’ve seen him.”

“How many?”

“Gosh, ten years.”

“People can change, but like I said.”

“You don’t like him, I know,” Sam remarked.

He let out a short sardonic laugh. “You know we are called to love our enemies and those who annoy us at church.”

“Not my favorite commandment,” he said with a huff. “I know I can give him the benefit of a doubt but, something’s off about him Sam. I’ll let you know if I see something to back it up, and you’ll let me know if you see anything, right? For now, don’t fret, ok?”

Sam nodded and heard several exclamations of her name. It seemed that her friends were anxious for updates and stories of her time in Lala Land.

“You seem to be the person of the hour, enjoy it Sam.” Alan said. He flashed her a smile and walked away into the sanctuary. Sam knew he’d soon be in a chair by himself, praying before the service started, as he always did. Sam forced smiles at her beckoning friends. She hugged necks, exchanged pleasantries and answered questions. Debbie did indeed want to see her, as she’d met with Debbie monthly as a mentor and friend. They had a lot to catch up on. They agreed to meet after the service for lunch at a local restaurant.

When the service had ended the two proceeded out the church doors and picked a place that was local. Seeing Brian on stage playing drums was jarring but it wasn’t worth distracting her from her connection to the divine. 

They sat in a local eatery, scanning the menus when Debbie spoke. Debbie was a little shorter than Sam with shoulder length blond hair, curvy figure, and an extroverted nature. She had joyful brown eyes and lit up the rooms she entered. She was thoughtful and organized, as well as a creative soul. These were qualities Sam admired in her and tried to emulate, as her creative side tended to be disorganized without structure.

“So, Sammy,” Debbie said, playing with her straw in her glass. “How are you adjusting to life back in Montana?”

“I’m doing well. Cheryl and Alan helped me celebrate the first night back, it was rather lovely,” Sam answered brightly. As confusing as the night was for her, she couldn’t deny the heady sweetness of being back.

“What did you do?”

She told a modified version of the story, leaving the elements about flirting with Alan out.

“Alan’s such a good man, he really doesn’t give himself enough credit,” Debbie remarked. Sam nodded, wondering what she was getting at. “Oh, is Cheryl still resisting coming to bible study?”

Sam blinked at the question, as she expected to be asked about Alan, not Cheryl. Try as she might, she was finding it hard to not speak or think about him. This time, she forced herself to.

“Yeah, it’s just really not her thing, she doesn’t mind talking about faith from time to time, but a Bible study is a bit intense for her.”

“That’s weird.”

“What is?”

“I mentioned Alan and you didn’t comment. You usually do.”

“Ah, well, everyone knows dependable Alan. As for credit, he doesn’t take credit for things he thinks, you know, should just be a given.”

“I love how you guys are unlikely friends,” Debbie remarked, her eyes darting back and forth as she remembered a story Trent told her. “Trent said he stumbled upon you at his house this past spring, helping him garden. He said it looked like you were having a blast.”

Sam smiled at the memory.

“Oh yeah, there was some overgrown vines, so we were just pulling them out. I didn’t go there to garden though, went there to research but we didn’t end up compiling much, and so he asked me to help outside. Ended up chasing me around the garden hose and dodging random sprays of water.” She laughed then remembering the playful look in his eyes and her shrieks to get away.

Debbie snickered. Sam got a dreamy look on her face and continued. “I enjoy being out there, it’s quiet, his place has a very peaceful feeling to it. I remember one spring afternoon I felt asleep on his couch while reading and woke up to him singing in his room. He was singing a hymn I think. He’s no singer by any means but he’s not terrible. It was charming.”

“He’ll make someone a fine husband someday, I think.”

“Well, sure, he’s been a husband,” Sam remarked, “he was married to a high school principal named Maria, but she passed away years ago. The anniversary of her death still makes him sad.”

Debbie frowned at her friend’s admission.

“Oh, I didn’t know he was a widower.”

“Yeah, that’s how we got to connect actually. He was mourning his wife, alone, but his friend was supposed to be with him to lament his loss with a bottle of Scotch. I ended up, through events, to be the only one on site at the time. It was quite hot that afternoon and he felt bad for me and let me into his trailer to cool off. We got to talking and it came out what the situation was. He diverted the subject most of the time, making it more about what he could do to help me get what I wanted out of the dig experience.” 

“Did that raise eyebrows?” Debbie asked, her eyes curious.

“According to Cheryl it was enough to start rumors, which is strange since the only ones who knew were Alan, Billy and me. Billy must have told someone. Then, rumors started and I didn’t know until a few nights ago.”

“Well he is older than you. Different generation. I’ve heard that women who date men that much older, well, tend to have issues with their fathers. Add him being an authority figure to the mix and that’s a whole other mess.”

Sam went to open her mouth but words failed her. Her friend seemed thoughtful for a moment as if going through a rolodex in her head. Her friendly face brightened.

“Now Rebecka, I could see her with Alan.” Debbie said. “She’s spirited, interesting, smart and a hard worker. A woman I think he’d have respect for and she’s his age. Besides, I think she’d think he’s handsome.”

“Alan respects women from all walks of life, I can assure you. Neither of them is hard on the eyes either.” Sam said not knowing why. Silence hung in the air. She was grateful when the waiter finally came over and they could place their order. She changed the subject to the food they were ordering. A pang of sadness swept through her. Her mentor couldn’t see it, didn’t know she’d been getting signals from Alan. She didn’t know the questions she was dealing with, and now she didn’t feel safe to share it. To hear Alan’s name paired with another woman, a woman she was close with, struck her as oddly painful, even if it was a vague possibility. The implication that any interaction between her and Alan in a romantic way could be misplaced affection was even more disheartening. Surely things couldn’t be so black and white. She called her father every week and e-mailed him often. They were different in some ways but she couldn’t escape his face when she looked in the mirror, she had his eyes, after all. Eyes, the thought of eyes made her mind jump over to seeing Brian again. Memories came flooding back to her. His contagious laughter, twinkling dark eyes that could turn cold in a millisecond.

“How long has Brian been coming?” Sam asked.

“Oh, well, a little after you left, he came. Alex connected with him again after knowing him in college, because you know, our drummer situation. He happened to be moving to the area, so here we are.”

The church band had been between drummers due to their former one going off with a garage band that was getting traction through local touring.

“Debbie, forgive me, but don’t you find it strange that Brian is on our team being so new to everything?”

“Oh no, he’s a decent guy. He turns up to practice on time, works hard to see things come together. You know how hard it is to get anyone to commit to that role here.”

“Yeah, I know we’ve been struggling to keep a drummer in town, but Alex isn’t the only one that’s known Brian a while.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, I knew Brian, back a while now.”

Sam’s statement was vague as she knew it was unfair to characterize Brian as she’d left him back when she was eighteen. Regardless of time passed she could almost still see the rain on the glass of the windows of his car, feel his hands wander, and see the shock on his face when she rejected him, for the last time.

“Any reason for us to be concerned about him?”

“I don’t know honestly. I’m just, was a little shocked seeing him.”

“Why is that?”

Sam knew she shouldn’t throw her old flame under the bus. She didn’t know what he was like now. Sometimes, people changed.

“This wasn’t his normal crowd back when I knew him,” Sam answered. That crowd usually consisted of musician or dancers from the ballroom background, who both had a taste for the party life, though he swore he avoided the most risqué situations.

“People change, especially when they find God. He seems to enjoy being here, you should give him a chance. After all, you’ll be working with him soon.”

Sam suppressed a roll of her eyes.

“Well, I guess I’ll see if he’s changed any.” Sam said, offering a polite but tight smile.

“Yes, we will.”

Sam turned back to her food and they avoided further mention of either men making headway in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you guys think? Should Sam try to trust Brian again? Should she take Debbie's advice?


	7. Saving Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alan tries to talk about his feelings for Sam, his project on pre-history and deals with the complication of Brian's meddling.

Chapter break- Saving face 

“So, how’d the reunion go?” Billy asked over the line. He was at the museum helping extract fossils with volunteers and paleontology students. Alan made a habit of keeping in touch while he compiled his research to eventually reveal the scientific community about reexamining Darwin’s theories to smooth over misconceptions and tensions between science and faith. Alan sat on the front porch swing looking out on the valley that stretched out before his home. The autumn foliage painting the trees in warm colour, that reminded him of the fire in his heart.

“Mixed.” Alan admitted.

“Was she unhappy?”

“No, just conflicted.”

“With what? Her career?”

“No,” Alan said, with a sigh. “I think she’s lonely.”

“Lonely? Cheryl and Sam are still close and her friends seem to care a lot about her. Heck, even I care about her and you know how we started out.”

“It’s possible to be surrounded by people who care and still feel alone.”

“Yeah, man, but that sounds like something Sam would say.”

“I think I have heard it come out of her mouth before.”

“How’s your project going?”

“Slower than I want. It’s a little hard to compile research on intelligent design when all the scientists are scared to explore the subject, and faith communities act like Genesis was a science book and protect it with their lives.”

“Is that really how they all act? That’s ridiculous.”

“Some _do_ believe in Darwinism, but those churches I find operate more like social clubs with liturgy added in for dramatic effect. There’s little spiritual conviction.”

“Some might surprise you, that’s like me saying your Pentecostal church is going to pull out snakes.”

Alan laughed.

“No, no snakes on Sunday morning, that happens at night,” He said dryly.

“Please tell me you’re not serious.”

“You could come sometime and see.”

“Seriously, Alan. Haven’t been to a church since junior year in college.”

“Let me guess, a girl dragged you along?”

“Yeah…” Billy said. “You could say that.”

Alan could tell by the sound of his voice that there was a more sordid story following it. Billy had a reputation in college for being a bit of a cad, until Alan figured out it could impact his health and gave him a stern talking to. Billy had been humbled by his health scare and promised to be pickier with his choice of a sexual partner in the future. Alan’s rule had always been “Don’t have sex with a woman that you couldn’t talk about the act with”. Alan had followed that advice in high school and was only burned by it because his first love, Sophie thought the rule meant that she should tell others what they did in private. Mortified by that and her need to add new members to their party he let her go. The memory of the shock of her with another man in the bed they’d shared so many nights made still him frown. The memory of her beckoning him to join them turned his stomach. It wasn’t in his makeup to share.

“Well, I’m going to have to go.” Alan said.

“Meeting with Sam?”

“No, church meeting for volunteers. I let a woman from church persuade me into volunteering for a fall festival at our church. Tonight’s the meeting they have to make sure you’re not a creep.”

“Why would they need to do that?”

“Child safety is not exactly guaranteed in church, unfortunately, they’ll be presenting their code of ethics and policies.”

“Well, that’s a step up from the Catholics at least.”

“Yeah, Billy. I can’t imagine what would make someone hurt a kid, or worse.”

“Special place in hell for folks like that, huh?”

“I wouldn’t wish damnation on many people but even Jesus implied that abusers would be better off with a stone tied around their necks.” 

“Harsh, but not surprising.”

“Even Jesus found reasons to be harsh at times. He wasn’t exactly a hippie.”

“I’ll let you get to the meeting. Have a good night, Alan.”

They exchanged farewells and Alan made his way to the church located an hour and twenty minutes from him.

He was greeted at the door by the worst person in his mind, Brian O’Connell. His Irish lilt he could identify a mile away. He was dressed in a fitted tee that showed off the fact that he spent some time in the gym, and a red fall jacket unzipped in the front with a pair of relaxed fit men’s jeans.

“Alan!” Brian called.

“Hey Brian.” Alan said, tersely.

He shook his hand. The man’s happy manner was hard to be angry at for most people, but it made Alan’s skin crawl.

“Glad you’re here.” Brian said, his wide smile gleaming.

“Well, I better sign in.” Alan said.

Alan breezed past the Irish man to the front desk in the lobby. The church was more modern that the standard Montana country church, being in Missoula and a hub for modern, creative people.

A woman by the name of Rebecka sat at the desk. She was a woman of forty with bottle dyed blonde hair that grazed her shoulders, green eyes an upturned nose and sharp bones. She was the one who’d taught Samantha all she knew about horsemanship and was the one who persuaded Alan to sign up to volunteer in the first place. They exchanged pleasantries and she got him signed in.

“So, how’s our Sam doing?”

Alan blinked.

“How’d you know I picked her up?”

“I didn’t. I was fishing.”

Alan chuckled nervously. He couldn’t risk the questions it would raise if people knew he was pining for his former student.

“Its what friends do isn’t it?” Alan offered.

“Well, it’s what the best friends around do,” the green-eyed woman said back. “I would have picked her up myself but you beat me to it. She was so excited when you asked her. It was adorable.”

Discomfort rose up in him again. A voice in his head said again. _“Tell her tonight.”_

“So, she did tell you?” Alan asked.

“Ah, you caught me.”

The woman’s eyes smiled at him. Rebecka had a way of teasing and poking in jest and he prayed this was just a game she was playing.

“I think I’m going to head in.”

“Oh, the meeting is in classroom #2.”

“Thanks.”

“Thanks for taking care of our girl. We love her around here.” She called after him.

Alan nodded curtly and made his way to the classroom.

The room smelled of crayons and pencil shavings, as it was one of the rooms the church used for the kid’s activities. A large television was in the room and their senior pastor, Trent, was present along with a few of the others. They exchanged pleasantries and he took a seat at a table they set up.

The meeting went over well, showing those in attendance a video about the harm sexual abuse did to children and the church’s heart to keep them safe. It seemed as if the project was made for multiple churches to use with interviews from victims and experts in child phycology. The thought that anyone would abuse a child in any way made Alan’s stomach turn. His mind couldn’t help but bring up Tim and Lex. The thought of anyone hurting them made hand grip his pen too hard as he signed the paperwork required to do background checks, and a contract of sorts holding them to a code of conduct. If they were found lacking they would be subject to police investigation and legal action. They also believed in isolation for the offender if found guilty, to show a member the seriousness of their crime, while also providing counseling for the victim. Counseling for the perpetrator was encouraged, but often seen as a “soft” route to go. He read over the words carefully and signed the agreement. He tried to ignore the fact that Brian had taken it upon himself to sit next to him. Something about the man made him feel ill at ease. Brian hung back in the classroom with Alan while others had filed out and were casually chatting in more comfortable areas of the church.

“Makes you sick doesn’t it?” Brian asked Alan.

“You can say that again.” Alan said, taking a breath in and letting it out.

“What made you sign up to help with the wee ones?” Brian asked.

“Got to learn how to deal with them.”

Brian chuckled.

“Well that’s one way to put it.” He said, nudging Alan in the arm.

“Church life is full of them, I have to adapt to them.” Alan said, feeling the need to explain his curt reply.

“Spoken like a scientist.”

“Well, that’s what I am.”

“Ah, yes I remember now. Someone here told me about that. Ever want any of your own?”

“That’s a good question.”

“You going to answer it?’

“Well, it’s a long answer, you sure you want to hear it?”

Brian took a chair and spun it around and sat so he was more or less straddling it the opposite direction. He leaned forward with interest. His man suddenly reminded him of Ian Malcom, smooth, cool, and confident, and that fact annoyed him.

“Well, the class it over, might as well,” he said.

“I once didn’t want them, but a romantic interest is making me reconsider.”

The young man grinned at him; his twinkling brown eyes wide with interest.

“Ah, who’s the lovely lass?” he asked.

“That’s top secret, even to her.” Alan said. He sighed.

The man laughed a bright laugh, his dark eyes gleaming with humor.

“Last I checked, Alan, that’s not the best way to have a child with someone.”

“It’s about timing, right thing at the wrong time is still the wrong thing.”

The younger man looked struck at his statement as if it was outrageous.

“Well if it’s right at one time, isn’t it right at the others?” Brian offered.

“Not necessarily,” Alan retorted.

“She’s cutting you deep whomever she is, isn’t she?”

“That’s where my openness ends, Brian, sorry.”

Brian’s smiling eyes changed then, becoming suddenly serious and even hard.

“We all need our secrets, I understand.”

Alan thought his use of the word “secrets” was out of bounds. He needed someone he could speak about his dilemma to that wouldn’t enflame his desire. Billy would encourage him to pursue Samantha with passionate abandon, saying he had “earned it”, and that she needed some thrills in her life. He hadn’t confessed his attraction to her, but he thought Billy was beginning to catch on. There were too many times where her name dropped from his lips, too many times where he’d arrive and Samantha would be in his living room, reading a book, helping him in his yard or out in her community on a lazy Saturday afternoon. He looked around to see Pastor Trent in the foyer area by the front doors. He quickly approached him, as it was rare to find the man alone.

“Pastor Trent, could I speak with you a moment?”

The pastor’s brow raised in surprise. He was a man in his fifties with chestnut hair that was beginning to grey. He was a typical Montana native, tough and hardworking, but had a heart for helping people around him.

“Sure, Alan. I do have to get home soon though, birthday party for my son.”

“Oh, which one?”

“Will.”

“Well, tell him happy birthday for me.” 

“I will Alan, he’ll be glad to know the dinosaur professor wished him a happy birthday.”

“I’ll walk you out if you have to.”

The two strode together outside, afternoon air cool, and humid with the smell of rain in the clouds that hovered overhead. Trent looked confused as his eyes scanned the parking lot.

“What’s the matter?” Alan asked, noting the look.

“I think my wife moved the car. Rebecka would know.”

The two headed back inside, heading up the concrete steps where Rebecka was turning off lights.

“Hey Rebecka, would you know where my bride went?” he asked. Alan smiled at his use of the word “bride” to describe his wife. It was easy for men who’d been married since their twenties to take their relationships for granted and reduce their life partner to names like “ball and chain” and “old lady”.

“Oh, yeah, she had to get home to set up. She did tell you earlier if you remember.” Rebecka said with a raised brow.

“Oh, well, I can drive you.” Alan offered. The two went back and forth a while with various options, even rebuffing an overzealous Brian who was still hanging around.

“It’s alright, Brian, I have to talk with Pastor Trent anyway.” Alan insisted.

Alan would not let Brian would not interfere with his affairs, not when he felt like a pot about to boil over.

The group exchanged goodbyes and Alan and Trent made their way to his pickup. Trent gave him the address and they proceeded on their way.

“So, what was it you wanted to talk about Alan?” Trent after they hit the first light on the corner.

“What makes a man ready for a relationship?”

“Ready? I’m not sure anyone is ready. I guess it’s when you know more of what you want, what your core values are. What are yours?”

“I want something long-term. I’ve never been much for short relationships.” Alan said. The instant he said it he found the scent of oriental perfume and spring rain come into his mind, but he pushed it away. It was just one time.

“Too much drama?”

“Too risky,” Alan replied. “I’ve only had about five relationships, only three of them turned…”

“Intimate?”

Alan nodded.

“How long has it been?”

“Since my last relationship?”

“Yeah, that.”

“It was 1994.”

“’94? Wow, Alan you really were married to your work.”

“Who told you that?”

“That fact told me that. You have anyone in mind?”

Alan nodded.

“Would you like my opinion on said woman?”

“Who says you know her?”

“OK, man of mystery, I get it. What else do you want in terms of what you want a relationship to look like?”

“Relationship or marriage?”

“Relationship starts first so that.”

“Well, we’re not dating yet, but there’s a friendship there already.”

“Does she know you well?”

“As well as she can without knowing I love her.”

“Love her? Well, this has escalated. Alan, what I’d like you to figure out is if you can love this person in a way where it’s just a friendship that lasts your whole life. You can have friends that are women without dating them. Have any of your close female friends been only friends to you?”

“Not many, no. Plenty of work colleagues, sponsors to digs. Anyone who got really close, got physically close.”

“Are you a date then sex guy or a friendship turning into sex, then turning into a relationship type of guy?”

Alan looked at the man like he’d grown an extra head. “It matters Alan. It helps shape how you think about relationships. Were you more likely to have an ambiguous relationship that turned sexual in nature then the standard, ask girl out on date, dating for a set about of time, with sex and commitment being more coupled? Or you used sex to find out if commitment was in the cards?”

“My last relationship was ambiguous at first. No formal dates as such, but dinners together then her telling me she wanted me, in that way. We went from there.”

“How long before things got physical?”

“Anything or sex?”

“Sex.”

“Two weeks after. Why does that matter now?”

“Lets me know how hot your motor runs. Who initiated sex first?”

“She did.”

“Ah ok. You let her lead. That’s good, and bad in a way.”

“How is that bad? The woman has the choice…”

“Oh, I know, it just shows you might struggle with telling a woman “no” if it’s not right.”

“I know I have to wait for the ring on the finger.”

“The goal isn’t abstinence Alan, it’s honor and respect. It’s the heart behind what we preach about. It’s not just about what you don’t do with your body, it’s about the space between your ears.”

“Yeah, that seems to be a problem. I desire her with an intensity that scares me.”

“Ah, see desire’s not so much the issue, that means your biology is healthy and the woman is attractive to you. What else, besides her looks are you attracted to?”

“I thought you wanted me to wait it out.”

“Just making conversation. I’d like to see what you respond to.”

“Well, plenty. She’s generous, has a huge heart for people, she’s introverted though, like me, which is nice. She won’t be dragging me to too many parties.”

Trent laughed. Alan shot him a knowing look. His reputation must have proceeded him.

He continued. “She’s quirky, playful, wise and smart which gets my mind going trying to figure her out. I like figuring her out, it’s like a puzzle.” Alan said, turning into the driveway.

“No truer words ever spoken. Well, Alan I’d love to keep chatting with you, but we’re here.”

Indeed, Alan had pulled into Trent’s driveway and he was sure he’d seen his wife, Debbie peek her blonde head out of the curtains. His pastor lived in a modest house in a middle-class neighborhood.

“Right, can I meet you tomorrow?”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, we’ll check the schedule and see. Maybe we’ll go take a hike. Looks like you might need it.”  
“Thanks.”

“Look, I get it, it’s hard. You’ve got the goods Alan, you’re a good man. Any woman would be fortunate to have you.” Trent then exchanged goodbyes with Alan and headed inside his home.

Alan then drove off and glanced at this car’s clock. It one o’clock in the afternoon. His conversation with Trent hadn’t gone as he’d planned. He scolded himself for failing to confess his attraction to Sam, and it was eating away at him. He was just a few miles away from her place and felt an urge rise in him to go there. Maybe seeing her again would give him the courage to fess up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Alan go and see Sam? Will he confess? Stay tuned!


	8. Something to talk about

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New characters are introduced and Sam processes the latest happenings with Alan. Sometimes, you need a trusted friend to make you confront things.

Chapter 8- Something to talk about

A knock sounded at the door as Sam’s fingers typed away at her keyboard. Her management company was updating her on the production of her album and it’s release date. She froze and her breath caught. Cheryl was at work, making up the hours she’d lost the day she had arrived. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Perhaps it was her landlord, or a neighbor asking for sugar. According to Cheryl Americans did that sort of thing or at least they had in days past.

She padded across the hardwood floors to the door and looked through the peephole. A flash of auburn hair caught her eye and she instantly knew who she was.

“Meg!” she exclaimed opening the door.

Meg was her former roommate and the best friend she had in the United States. She worked long shifts as a nurse and was married to Chase Whitebear, a part time missionary to local reservations and a part time social worker. Meg’s features were as cute as ever with her tall, curvy frame, button nose, heart shaped lips and freckles. Her extroverted nature drew Sam’s more introverted nature out. Megan joked that she adopted her while she was in school but Sam knew it wasn’t just a joke. She’d been a kindred spirit and a person who helped acclimate her to Montana and the American way of life. They both sang, though Megan found little fulfillment in a stage, opting instead to be a caretaker.

They exchanged excited pleasantries and embraced each other.   
“Where’s Chase?” Sam asked.

“Oh, he’s parking the car, a pick-up took the spot we were eyeing while I was getting my phone off the car floor. I couldn’t wait till he parked so I ran up.”

“What color was the truck?”

“Um, I think it was brown, why?”

“No reason.”

“Don’t do that Sam.”

“Alan’s is red, I was wondering if it was his.”

“Oh, you guys are still close. He obviously loves his work, but man, that must be lonely doing research all day.”

“Why wouldn’t we still be close?”

“Well, recording is time consuming, his research is time consuming, just assumed you hadn’t spoken much.”

“Alan and I spoke every week, just like I did with you.”

“Oh, ok.”

Her friend’s eyes narrowed and scanned her frame.

Another knock sounded at the door and the girls called for the person to come in. In came two men, Chase, and Alan. Sam’s breath caught in her throat.

“Alan, what a surprise. I didn’t think you were in the neighborhood,” Megan exclaimed. They exchanged pleasantries. “What brings you all the way out here?”

“Oh, I was just at a meeting at the church, thought I’d stop by.”

“Oh, that volunteer thing where they play you that terrible video.” Megan said.

“Yeah, that one.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re finally volunteering, usually you’re in the front furiously writing away.” Chase remarked. Chase was a man a tall man about Alan’s height, with determined looking hooded dark eyes, high cheekbones, and a broad strong frame, cropped short black hair and tan skin, all harkening to his Native American heritage.

“Faith comes by hearing.” Alan remarked.

“Yes, it does, and it’s aided by hydration. Can I get you anything Alan?” Megan asked.

Sam grinned at her friend’s casual way but she knew her way around their place like the back of her hand. Sam and Cheryl both agreed to an open-door policy with Megan with the only caveat being that she wasn’t allowed to leave during a snowstorm. Megan was a nervous driver in the winter and once ended up in a ditch on her way back to her home a town over.

“Oh, yes, actually if you have any of Cheryl’s sweet tea that would be great.” Alan answered.   
“Make that three.” Chase added.

“Sam? What you want darling?”

“Surprise me, darling.”

“Oh, you’re sweeter than honey tea, Sam.”

Alan chuckled. Megan always had a way of lighting up any room she walked into and lightened up Sam who was a little prone to seriousness.

“So, how’s the work on the reservation going Chase?” Alan asked.

“Slow, but we’re finally getting there.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do. I don’t mind supporting their businesses when I can.”

“Alan likes their honey and eggs.” Sam said with a smile. She’d known Alan on occasion to stop off at a house not far from her and return with raw honey and eggs. She’d found out later he’d been helping a Native American family pay their bills by paying too much for their goods. Alan was frugal most of the time, Sam often catching him putting money in a box in his cupboard when he thought she wasn’t looking. He guessed he was saving for a future dig. Why he had to be so secretive about it she didn’t know.

“I like the William’s honey and eggs.”

“You pay them too much.”

“I don’t mind. It’s worth it.”

“Where do they live? I’d love to tell my co-workers about them. They’re always talking about wanting some good eggs and other things like that.” Megan asked.

“Oh, I don’t know if they’d want just anyone coming by.” Alan told them the address anyway and Megan wrote it down. She then crossed the room with glasses of tea and passed them around. She ended up on the couch with Sam. It was a worn but comfortable couch the color of charcoal.

“He’s generous.”

Sam nodded and raised her eyebrow, knowing her friend was getting at something.

“He’s a lot of things.”

“Yeah,” she placed her head on Sam’s shoulder. “I just wish…”

“I know.” Sam breathed out.

Meg raised her head, her eyes moving from Sam to Alan and back again.

“Oh.” She breathed out. “I think Sam wants to go for a walk. Come on Sam, let’s go take a walk. Let the men talk about fishing and horses or something.”

“You mind?” Chase asked Alan, amused by his wife.

“No.” Alan said, with a tight smile.

The two donned footgear and their fall jackets and headed outside. The colorful leaves were strewn about like a child’s messy art project.

“What’s Alan to you?” Megan said. Her bluntness never failed.

“Honestly, he’s my best friend.” She answered. “I’m lucky to have him.”

“Oh Sammy.”

“That’s what he calls me now; Sammy,” Sam said, putting her hand against her cheek with a thoughtful expression. “It was a milestone for him to just call me by my first name. Now he’s volunteering for kid’s events at church. He was an agnostic when I met him. And now, he’s a passionate believer, and my best friend. How did that happen?” Her eyes gleamed in wonder at her friend. Her friend smiled back.

“I think that was a product of a woman who saw he needed a friend, became one, then introduced him to the best friend in the world.”

Sam’s feet crushed the leaves from the trees under her feet as she walked. She reveled in the autumn sunshine. Megan put her arm around her friend and they walked a few paces together before she spoke again.

“I don’t want to scare you Sam, but I think Alan’s got a thing for you.”

Sam stopped dead. Her brown eyes widened. To hear those words aloud again unnerved her.

“How, what, ugg…”

“I gather I’m not the first person to imply that.”

“No, Cheryl asked me about the first night I got back.”

“Really?” Megan asked, her look quizzical. “Wow, Cheryl’s a bit of an airhead and she noticed.”

“Well, not really,” Sam explained. “she just told me there were rumors about Alan and me back at the dig site.”

“The dig site? Nothing spells romance like dirt, sweat and dinosaur bones.” Megan quipped. 

“Not romance per say, they were implying that…” Sam said, raising a brow.

“They implied that you got it on at the dig site?!” Megan exclaimed with a slight grimace. “Oh Gosh, that’s crazy. Anyone who knows you wouldn’t think that.”

“I know. Then Cheryl said something before she fell asleep.”

“Which was?”

“Well, when I arrived at my room yesterday, I found it clean, which is normal, we clean up before either of us leave for long trips, but then I saw a new duvet on the bed, a flannel blanket and flowers on the bedside table.”

“Which one of those did Alan put there?”

“According to my sleepy roommate, the flowers were Alan’s idea,” Sam said, a smile creeping up on her lips. “Along with the entire evening before, he made me dinner, well, us dinner,” Sam paused thinking to herself. She realized something. “I don’t think he wanted Cheryl there.” 

“She intruded without knowing it.”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, trust me I’m 95% sure Alan just humored her the whole time. I love Cheryl but she’s oblivious sometimes. So how did it make you feel to find that out?”

“I’m not sure what I’m meant to feel. I could be reading into this completely wrong. I mean, the guys at church have been generous with their time and effort with us before.”

Megan raised a brow.

“What’s scaring you Sam?” she asked.

“Scares me?”

Megan looked over at her friend, her brow furrowing slightly, taking in her tone of voice.

“Yeah, you’re not telling me something.”

“I’m keeping some things to myself.”

Megan’s normally soft features hardened.

“Alright, Sam, if you want to sort this out you’re going to have to talk to me. Tell me right now, add all the signs up.”

She recited all the things he’d done to her friend. Megan was watching her every statement, she knew. Watching body language, tone, searching for indicators that she was lying or leaving anything out. When she was done speaking her friend’s brown eyes looked stunned.

“Wow, Sam. Gosh, I’m not super close to Alan, but if that was Chase doing all those things, I’d say he’s making a move.”

Sam’s heart beat faster.

“But what if he’s not?”

“That, you will only know in time, or you could just be an adult come out and have that talk.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t honest before.”

Megan waved her off.

“It’s fine. So, have you done anything to encourage or discourage him?”

“Well…”

“Samantha Jordan,"Megan said, using her friends first and last name for seriousness sake. "I love you but you frustrate me sometimes. Please, I’m here for you. Just tell me.”

Sam sighed and spoke. 

“I kissed him on the cheek goodbye.”

“When?”

“The night I got in.”

“Oh wow, did you say anything?”

“No. Just ran inside.”

“Wow. Would have been better if you missed and got his lips. At least he’d know for sure.”

“Meg," Sam began to plead. 

“No, really, then this weird, ambiguous blob of a friendship you guys have now would have some clarity. Unless you aren’t physically attracted to the professor?”

Sam looked at her friend with raised brows and a shy smile. Her friend’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped open.

“Oh my god, you are, you’ve been for a long time, haven’t you?”

“Since before I left. And don’t bring God’s name into this.”

“Wow, I think I need a minute.”

Meg walked over to a nearby stump and sat down. “You’ve prayed about this?”

“That goes without saying.”

“What did He say?”

“I think He wants me to ask Alan about it.”

“Measured out all the pros and cons.”

“Yes.”

“Well unless his age bothers you.” Megan suggested. Sam shot her friend a quizzical look.

“Does it bother you?”

“Well, I mean, how many years is it?” Megan asked.

“15.”

“Wow, 15, that’s a generation and a half Sam.”

“Well, that would be ten years plus five.” Sam said. Megan wrinkled her nose at Sam’s remark and she received the same look in return. “Anyway, I’m an old soul. You know that.” Sam had always been one to think differently, cherishing the thoughts of old more than modern thought, in some areas. She loved old books, theologians and buildings and had a aversion to technology unless she really needed to use it. 

“Yeah, you are an old soul, but is that enough?”

“Debbie made a comment the other day, when I went out with her Sunday. She said that women who date older men are trying to work out their issues with their fathers.”

“Ah, no, that’s like when there’s like a twenty-year age gap.” Megan tried. Sam went on.

“Then she mentioned how she’d love to see him with Rebecka. Maybe she’s better off with him than me.”

Sam’s eyes began to tear. Megan got up and embraced her friend. “Easy sweetheart. You’re going to have to take a risk if you want this. It’s up to you, not someone’s opinion of what is right. I love our pastor but she can be wrong. Did you let her know how you felt?”

“No, it wasn’t worth fighting over.”

“I really hope you’re not going to fixate on what she said.”

“I mean, it makes sense, they’re both earthy, hard working people, who are interesting. She’d be able to bring him out of his shell. It might work.”

“OK, I guess you are fixating on it. Look, like I said, unless he’s interested in _her_ all this is mute, and by all cases it seems he’s doing a lot to let you know he’s into _you_.”

Sam thought for a moment and realized she’d been irrational.

“You’re right,” Sam admitted, “I let my mind play tricks on me. Thanks.”

“It was killing you inside wasn’t it?”

“Eating me alive.”

“Oh gosh, we just had parasites in a kid at work, don’t remind me.”

Sam laughed at her friend’s admission.

“Sorry.”

“Now, promise me you’ll relax when we go in.”

“Promise.”

The men were chatting with each other when they got back.

“How was your walk, honey?” Chase asked, his dark eyes sparkling with an unasked question.

“Oh, productive, I think,” Megan answered.

Alan raised an eyebrow.

“I think they’ve been plotting,” he said, his blue eyes questioning his best friend and her best friend.

“Plotting? Us? No,” Sam claimed.

Both men both said Sam and Megan’s name in turn, trying to get a clue. They just received innocent looks back, so Alan dropped the subject. 

“Do you know your album release date yet?” Alan asked.

“Yeah, it’s next month. Tour starts just after that, just got the e-mail today actually,” Sam said, with a small smile. It was the one, Alan knew that she wore when she was a little embarrassed. Her expression changed, as if she remembered something. “Do you think you have enough research for your tour?”

“Well, I have at least enough to maybe spark some Q & A sessions, some discussions on campuses. I have some speakers to come out with me. I just have to make more calls.”

“Any dates set?”

“Yeah, one in Washington D.C. and one right here. Where are you touring to?”

Sam went to the computer and pulled up the dates, reciting them to him as they were listed.

“There’s not much yet, when the album comes out, that will create more buzz, as the record folks say. Then, we’ll know if it’s worth investing their money.”

“Speaking of albums. Can we please get you to play something for us, Sam? I’m dying to hear more of what you’ve been working on.” Megan insisted.

Sam protested but group would have none of it.

“Alright, I just got a CD in the post. I’ll play it for you. You must promise not to record it or tell anyone about it. Got it?”

The group agreed.

She placed the CD in the player at their entertainment center and sat in the lone easy chair. Her gaze found its way out the balcony window onto the foliage of the trees outside. She was always self-conscious when others listened to what she’d so painstakingly created. She felt like she’d given birth and everyone was waiting to tell her if her baby was pretty or ugly. The first few chords played and she could hardly look over at the group while they listened to the first track.

Alan held a piece of paper in his hand and was writing something on it. The scribble of his pen attracted Sam’s attention and she watched him. He held it up to her after the first track ended and it read “Beautiful 8.9”.

She laughed aloud. Alan smiled to himself, looking satisfied and the others caught on, each laughing in turn. The game Alan created continued, each person adding commentary on pieces of paper and mock “scores” on paper. Little did the group know that the second track was about a vacation she and Megan took in Tokyo, or that the forth track was the song she’d rewritten and reworked in the studio and its words seemed prophetic now that she heard the lyrics again. She was musing on the things the song suggested, asking the same questions. Sitting in the same room with someone who could be the one she’d waited for all her adult life. She couldn’t help but smile bashfully when Alan caught her grinning like a fool and sent her a soft smile back. _He sure knows how to turn on the charm when he needs to_ , she thought to herself. There was an ease about it, like it was a mode he went into at will.

Piano chords played on, guitars strummed warmly, strings played their melodies and her voice warmly sang on, weaving a tapestry of musings, longings, questions and declarations of faith and purpose. This album was serious and pensive, less light-hearted than her release in her home country. When it was over Megan stood and took the CD out of the player.

“Well, I think I just heard the next great album of a generation.” She remarked.

“I appreciate that you like it. Though I think it’s too high of praise for me.” Sam said.

“Wow, that’s the best she’s taken a compliment in years boys, mark that down.”

Alan took his sheet of paper and wrote on it. Sam threw a pillow his way.

“Strike that.”

Sam smiled to herself, and Alan caught her gaze. If Alan wanted to make them something to talk about she’d welcome it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, what do you guys think? Should Sam make a move or should Alan take the lead?


	9. Sheep Amongst wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian tests his limits with Sam and Sam begins her tour. Alan begins his tour and a controversy is stirred.

Chapter Nine- Sheep amongst wolves

Sam’s palms were sweaty. She arrived at the church for practice, her stomach in knots knowing that she’d have to see Brian again. Even a whispered prayer did little to ease the tension. She strode into the church with her guitar in hand, with the e-mailed song list Alex, their lead worship leader, had sent to her. Loud drumming met her ears before she even opened the church doors. The sound grated at her nerves, and she wondered if one of the teenagers was playing around with the drum set. A closer listen told her that this player was quite skilled, and the masculine laughter she heard echo through the church told her it was indeed Brian. She walked through the two hundred seat sanctuary and heard the hollers and greetings of her friends. She smiled and waved, stuffing her feelings about Brian down. It wasn’t worth it to risk her connections with them to nurse a suspicion.

She watched as Brian’s eyes brightened at the sight of her and he set his drumsticks down by the side of the drum kit and he almost tripped over the drum kit getting to her. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at him.

“Sam! Welcome back!” he said with his too eager brown eyes.

“Thanks, welcome to the team.” She responded.

“Thanks Sam. Nice to get a warm welcome from the best singer this team has seen.”

“I think you’re insulting Janice. She’s got bigger pipes than me.”

Janice was a member of the team on the roster for background vocals for that week but usually was lead on assigned songs when Sam was away. She had dark skin and black curly hair. She was talented, musical, vivacious and kind, and a vital part of their team. She just wasn’t present at this rehearsal but would be there when Sam left on her tour.

“Ah, well, I love Janice, but I guess I’m biased. You’ll have to forgive me, love.” Brian said, in a calm confident way.

“I’d love to have you guys catch up, but we have to get on with rehearsal.” Alex, their leader informed them. Alex was a man in his thirties with light brown hair, blue eyes with a slight frame and a tall stature. He had a kindness and warmth to his personality that warmed others to him. The other musicians and singers gathered around and waited for the next instruction. “Everyone’s got their set lists, and their assignments. Anyone have any suggestions with songs or their arrangement?”

“Oh, I thought that maybe we could liven up “Breathe” a little.” Brian spoke up. “Make it a bit more up-tempo. Add some drums some more guitar.” His eyes were bright and his mouth smiling as if he had the best idea in the world.

Sam’s nose wrinkled at the idea. “That’s a little odd for a song three, Brian. That’s more for the opening song, I think.” Sam suggested.

“Oh, come on, I’ll show you if you’ll sing it mid-tempo while I play.”

Sam shook her head again.

“Oh, come on, you can’t resist creativity, what if the spirit’s leading that way on Sunday?”

Sam had to look away from him and took in a breath to calm herself down.

“I don’t mind a little creativity, I just think it will be a little jarring for everyone. That’s it’s reflective and intimate, not bombastic and loud for a reason.” She explained.

“Oh come on Sam, you’ve got to be at least interested in the idea.”

“I’m going to back Sam up on this one Brian, sorry.” Alex chimed in.

“Oh, alright.” Brian said. His frown looked exaggerated to Sam’s eyes, like he was playing it up.

“Well, let’s get going on rehearsal.” Alex announced.

“OK, “better than life”, I’m leading that one. Brian should like the drums in that song. Just don’t go too crazy. The guitar is more prominent than the drums in this song. Sam, you’ll be backing me up, and I’ll be singing lead for it. It’s quite fast and wordy, focus on the chorus when backing me up Sam, and you should be fine.”

They went through the song and the drums crashed too loud behind Sam as they practiced. Sam shot a look over at Alex. He made a “cut” motion with his hand and the band stopped.

“Brian, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but maybe just turn it back a notch.” He suggested. His smile looked painted on but Brian agreed. Alex shot Sam a sympathetic look.

The patterned continued so much that Sam asked to be excused for a bathroom break. She went to the bathroom and screamed into the sleeve of her shirt to muffle it.

“This isn’t fair.” She spoke into the air. “I don’t want to work with him. I can’t work with him.”

She tried to feel what the right thing was to do and she thought of the congregation she loved, the leaders she’d grown to love. If it wasn’t for them she’d throw in the towel.

She took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror.

“Do this for them, not for him.”

She headed back out and continued through the rehearsal, which went off more pleasantly that time. Something felt alarmed in her gut despite it, and she didn’t know why. Sam went to gather her guitar when she heard Alex and Brian speaking rather animatedly in the hallway leading to the church offices.

“I don’t see what your problem is with a little creativity Alex.”

“Brian, come on, there’s creativity and there’s bad ideas. You can’t play around like that with that song. It’s one thing to offer an idea, it’s another to not take a well thought out criticism to heart. Sam knows what she’s talking about. Don’t be afraid to listen to her.”

“Just because she’s the professional doesn’t mean she has the best ideas, Alex.”

“Well, _I_ trust her. I wouldn’t have her on the team if I didn’t. I think you’re maybe having a hard time listening to someone you once dated.”

“Oh, no it’s not that at all.”

“What is it about?”

“I don’t think she respects me.”

“Well, she doesn’t have to respect half-baked ideas but I think she is kind to you.”

“This is absurd!” Brian exclaimed. “You’re just siding with her because you want to ride on her success.”

“Brian, you know that’s not right. She doesn’t gain anything from this. She works for free, just like you,” Alex was speaking quietly but intensely and with much animation in his features. “She was just signed, we don’t even know if she’ll be successful. We hope so, for her own career, but we don’t know.”

“Whatever man.”

The conversation stopped with the sound of the back door opening and closing. Sam peeked around the corner to see Alex standing in the hallway with his arms crossed, his brow furrowed.

“Hey, Alex.”

“Oh, Sam, I hope you didn’t hear that.”

“Oh, it’s ok. At least I know what he thinks of me anyway.”

“Oh, Sam, he’s just adjusting. He was super nervous about it. I think he felt a little upset about your introduction Sunday.”

“I wasn’t unfriendly, Debbie was looking for me.”

“Well, if he was a visitor, I would have wanted you to be a little friendlier.”

Sam raised her brow. “I don’t think you fully understand why I was anxious to leave.”

“Oh, I know you guys dated, I just thought you’d be over it by now.”

Sam blinked, now aware that Alex knew nothing about why she left so quickly.

“Oh trust me, there’s no flames carried for that Irishman,” she said. “Keep an eye on his ego, it might bite us in the butt if you let it slide.” She watched for her friend’s response and received a slight nod in response. She blinked and looked away from him, disappointed. “I’ve gotta get home and make dinner. Tell Melanie I said ‘Hi”.

“Oh ok, will do, Sam,” Alex said, as if a million miles away.

Sam went back to her team and waved them goodbye and strode out of the church, carrying her guitar in her case. She was grateful for the tour coming up and that she had only one Sunday left playing with Brian.

\-----

The crowd was humming outside the curtain, the band poised at their positions, all that was left was for the stage manager’s cue for her to grace the stage. Her body hummed with nervous energy. The brown-haired man gave a nod and she headed on, the band playing the intro to the title track. The crowd cheered and became still all at the same time. She had their attention.

\------

Alan could hear the shuffling of feet, the din of chatter and the rustling of paper. He heard the Dean of the college give them all an introduction and he and two other men walked on stage. One man, Dr. Zacharias, was an apologist of the Christian faith, and Dr. Alexander Drummond, a noted evolutionary scientist. He was in the middle, a man of faith who believed still in Darwinism, even if it was a modified version of it. The audience knew nothing about his faith, as it wasn’t public information to the press. He knew, once it was public knowledge they would have a field day and his career could take a hit. Sam had advised him as much and had sent him a card of encouragement on his first day. She had written: “Shrewd as serpents, innocent as doves. Fight fair. Prayers, Sammy.” He’s titled the tour “The scientist and the philosopher: Conversations on science and belief”. He hoped it kept people’s attention.

“Welcome, Students, faculty and the public, my name is Dr. Alan Grant, as you heard and I am proud to be the creator and mediator of this tour, “The Scientist and the Philosopher: Conversations on Science and Belief.” I charge you all to set aside your preconceived notions and theories and listen to all the views presented, we’ll have a Q&A after both men have presented their case, in which I will add my insight as a Paleontologist. I, just as you are about to, had my views challenged by a student a year ago, she taught me that these conversations are still taboo in our science communities and I think it’s time we bridged the gaps.”

“Now, I’ll let Dr. Zacharias have the stage, he’s a noted apologist and philosopher and I hope after tonight we can become better acquainted, Ravi. The stage is yours.”

The crowd clapped politely as the grey-haired, dark-skinned man smiled warmly and proceeded to shake Alan’s hand and then speak, with his headset microphone giving him free reign of the stage. 

“Thank you, Dr. Grant, it’s an honor that you not only are mediator tonight, but you are the creator of this tour, and may it be one of many talks we do. Science and religion are often seen as strange bedfellows but as Alan put it backstage, that they should probably talk more to smooth things out.”

The audience laughed. So, it proceeded, Ravi presented his side and Dr. Drummond presented his. Both speakers were captivating and both garnered applause for their efforts. Afterwards, Alan invited them to a trio of armchairs in the middle of the stage. Alan had it arranged that way to be like a fireside chat between like minded friends.

“Figures that a bunch of introverted people would be pulled together to talk, eh?” Ravi remarked. The audience laughed.

“Brace yourself you may not see this again in my lifetime.” Alexander said.

“Are there any questions either of you would like to ask me?”

“Who is the student you spoke of that inspired this talk?”

“Ah, well, she was a student at my dig last year, that came in asking questions and she found herself vastly unprepared for the intellectual beating she received from the other students, and they were resistant to have the conversations that you, Ravi, are encouraging tonight. We all worked with her to help her rationalize things out but she always felt a tension with her faith, a tension with her faith community telling her one thing, and science telling her another. I also realized that I needed a little philosophy myself to answer the age-old question of “why?””

“I’m sure that was a scary process for her but I’m sure she came out better for it. We’re having this conversation now, so all her toiling must have worked out.”

“I’d hope so. She can’t exactly ask for her money back.” Alan quipped.

Laughter came from the crowd.

“Not that anyone would. Anyone interested in paleontology would be fortunate to have you as their professor and overseer. You’re passionate about your work. How has your view on your work changed since taking on this conversation?” Alexander asked.

“Well, that’s a loaded question Alex. I do now take the teachings of Jesus Christ to heart though I’m not one to read Genesis as a science text. It’s been the bane of my existence to feel something metaphysical answers my questions about the “whys” I spoke of earlier. Now, this statement as seen by the hush in the crowd tells me that both the science community and the faith community will take issue with me. I’m still learning to have the hard conversations and still maintain a strong sense of faith.”

Alexander nodded his head.   
“Well if you wanted attention for this tour you sure have it now.”

“Seems so. Now questions from the audience if that’s ok.”

Alan was used to the shooting up of hands but never on this topic. He also wasn’t used to seeing the furrowed brow of confused students. About two thousand eyes probed into him. He had their attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told everyone there would be discussions of a more scientific/philosophical nature in future chapter and I hope I did a fair portrayal of those things.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think, give kudos and constructive criticism. I love to hear what fellow fans think. Please let me know what you think! Leave Kudos and reviews so I will be motivated to post more. What do you think of Sam? Does Alan seem to be in character? This is a new direction in the character and I hope it comes across as organic.


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